“Theodore, we’re due at the schoolhouse right now,” his wife reminded him. “Children, get your hats and coats and everyone must put on overshoes. We don’t want any frosted fingers or toes for Christmas. Theodore, I don’t really know if Ted should go or not. His chest is still frail from that grippe.”
“Bundle up well, Ted,” ordered his father. “Cold weather never hurt anybody.”
“It hurts me.” Alice shivered. “I get goose bumps and I hate them and the end of my nose turns red.”
“Get ready at once, Alice, and you too, Ted, if you’re going,” directed their father.
“Mother had me excused from making my speech,” said Ted. “I still think I was well enough to have made it.”
“I can say mine,” Kermit shouted, halfway up the stairs, “‘Higgledy piggledy went to school—’”
“You’ll be scared when the time comes,” Ted jeered. “I bet you forget half of it.”
In the big carriages packed with robes and hot bricks they rode the short distance to the Cove Creek school. The schoolhouse bell, creaking and jangling merrily, was ringing loudly as they came near; they could hear the wheels that turned it squeak and the ropes groan and slap against the sides of the belfry.
“Someday,” announced young Ted as he climbed out of the carriage, “that old thing’s going to come crashing down.”
“Then the children won’t have to go to school,” said Ethel.