Grandma Martin at first did not know what to say. She just stood looking at Trouble and at the feathers. She really could not help seeing the feathers because there were so many of them and they were so scattered about the room. Baby William was almost hidden beneath them.
“Oh, my!” gasped Mother Martin. “I never knew there were so many feathers in one bed!”
“Me make cushion for lame boy!” said Trouble again, and he put his chubby hands in through the hole he had cut in the ticking, and pulled out a lot more feathers.
“Make a cushion! I should say you could make two dozen cushions with the feathers you’ve pulled out!” said Grandma Martin. “What does he mean by a cushion for the lame boy?”
“Oh, that must be Hal Chester,” explained Jan. “I gave him a cushion to sit on this morning, and Trouble saw me. He said he liked poor, lame Hal.”
“Me do like him—make Hal two cushions!” declared Trouble, laughing, as he tossed some feathers up in the air so that they fell in a shower on his head.
“Oh, Trouble!” sighed Mother Martin. “Such a mess as you have made! Oh, dear!”
“Never mind,” put in Grandma Martin, soothingly. “We can pick up the feathers, and I’ll sew them back in the bed. It doesn’t matter, as no one wants to sleep on it. Come on, Trouble, we’ll go to get the eggs.”
“He looks like a chicken himself,” laughed Jan. “Oh, what a funny, funny baby!”
Mrs. Martin caught her baby up in her arms, and, as she did so, a cloud of feathers flew all around, and some, getting in Jan’s nose, made her sneeze.