“You won’t hurt, will you?” asked Ted, anxiously.
“Nope! I’ll do it easy.”
Jan took hold of the comb, but no sooner had she started to pull it through her brother’s tangle of hair than he gave a howl, almost like those he used when he was playing Indians with the boys and pretended to be on the warpath.
“What’s the matter? Don’t yell so!” cried Jan.
“You pull like anything!”
“Well, I can’t help it. The comb is caught fast, or something! I’ve got to get it out,” and the little girl did her best to untangle the snarls.
“Ouch! Let it alone!” again Ted howled, and this time his mother’s voice called up from the foot of the stairs:
“What are you children doing now?”
“I’m combing Ted’s hair,” answered Janet.
“She’s pullin’ it,” declared Ted, and this time his sister did not mention the dropped “g.” “She pulls awful! The comb’s stuck!”