"There are none in that room," returned Alice, placidly.
"Goodness me!" gasped Dorothy. "I wouldn't have a boy around for a farm!"
Again came the wail from above:
"If you don't smell nothin', Sis, it's 'cause I pulled off all the match heads an' swallered 'em! I'm goin' ter die—I'se p'izened, Sis!"
"Why! what a dreadful little scamp he is," gasped Dorothy.
Alice jumped up, with her lips set tightly. She ran into the kitchen, from which she returned in a moment with a cup of warm water and mustard.
"He's got to be taught a lesson," declared the much troubled sister, with decision, and she marched upstairs.
"Now, Tommy, if you have swallowed matchheads, you must take this," declared Alice Long, and when Master Tommy, now rather disturbed by the prospect of the ill-smelling cup, tried to escape, she got his head "in chancery," held his nose until he opened his mouth, and made him swallow the entire mess.
It was certainly a bad dose, and its effects were almost immediate and quite surprising to Master Tommy. The twins waited below stairs while the trouble continued; and finally down came Alice with Master Tommy—a much sadder, wiser, and humbled youngster—by the hand.
"I—I'm going to be a good boy," announced Master Tommy, making a wry face.