“Let’s go too,” Rosie whispered. “Isn’t it a joke to think of boys trying to make beds? I’d like to see the bed after Harold has finished with it.”
The girls tagged the boys; followed them upstairs into the barn.
At once Harold began in the most business-like way to strip the bed. It was apparent that on arising he had pulled the covers back to air. Then with swift, efficient movements, he began to re-make it.
“Goodness!” Rosie exclaimed humbly in a moment, “I can’t make a bed as well as that. I’m going to learn too.”
Indeed, the bed looked like a mathematical problem which had just been solved, and as Harold proceeded to clean up the room in the way he had learned at camp, the others followed him with respectful glances. Harold tidied the three chiffoniers and the three closets. When he finished, the room had a look of military perfection.
“Now,” he commanded, “Arthur you make your bed and Dicky you make yours; I’ll supervise the job.”
“I’m going right back to my room and re-make my bed, Harold,” Maida declared. “It looks as though somebody had driven an automobile over it.”
“I will too,” admitted the humbled Rosie. “Think of having a boy teach you how to make a bed!”
The boys rejoined the girls after a while and again they went over their plans. In the midst of it all, Granny Flynn came in to see what was keeping them so quiet. They showed her the typewritten schedules and she approved them highly. “They ought to work like a charm,” she averred.