“We will,” promised Jan.
“Where is Trouble?” asked Ted.
“Out in the hammock. But don’t swing him too high, or he may fall out,” answered his mother.
“All right,” assented Jan.
Trouble was the nickname given to the baby brother of Jan and Ted. He was about three years old, and often got into mischief. That was why he was called Trouble.
It was a beautiful, sunshiny day—the last of June—and Monday morning. It was the beginning of the long summer vacation, school having closed the Friday before.
“Now we’ll have some fun!” laughed Ted as he ran over the thick, green grass and turned a somersault. “Let’s build a tent and play Indians.”
“I don’t want to play that,” objected Jan.
“Then I’ll get Tom Taylor,” declared Ted. “Here he comes now,” and he pointed to a boy, a little larger than himself, who was walking along the street whistling.
“Here’s the letter man,” added Jan, as she saw the mail-carrier approaching. “I wonder if he’s got anything for us.”