The boy turned his handsome head. "Yes, mother; I did hear you," he said, earnestly, "an' I told Doris to go straight into the house an' bring Richard; but she wouldn't go. I had to finish this first, you see, 'cause I've planned——"
"Come in now," interrupted his mother, forestalling the detailed explanation sure to follow. "Come in at once!"
The boy dropped the snow-shovel with which he was carefully shaping the base of his image. "Don't you hear mother, Doris?" he demanded in a clear, authoritative voice. "You must go right in this minute an' take Buddy."
The little girl thrust out the tip of a saucy pink tongue at her brother.
"Mother said you too, Carroll Brewster; you don't have to tell me an' Buddy. Does he, mother?"
"Carroll! Doris!"
There was no mistaking the tone of the mother's voice. The baby, suddenly conscious of cold fingers and tingling toes, ran toward her with a whining cry, his short arms outstretched. The others followed slowly, exchanging mutinous glances.
"Carroll is always trying to make me an' Buddy mind him; but we won't," observed Doris, emphatically kicking her overshoes across the floor.
"All three of you should obey mother every time," chanted Elizabeth in the weary tone of an oft-repeated admonition. She sighed as she added, "It is very naughty to argue and dispute."
"But you see, mother, I'm the oldest," began Carroll argumentatively, "an' I generally know what the children ought to do just as well as anybody."