“But I will get you!” shouted Bert. “Here, Nan,” he called to his older sister, “you hold this little tyke while I chase after this Freddie boy!”
Nan, with a sigh and yet with a little laugh, held Flossie, who, truth to tell, was herself laughing and giggling so hard at the trick she and Freddie had played on Bert that she could not have run much farther, no matter how much she wanted to.
Freddie had counted on Bert having to drag Flossie along with him on the second part of the chase. But when Bert turned Flossie over to Nan, that left him free to run, and he caught his small brother before the latter had taken more than half a dozen steps.
“Prisoner number two!” cried Bert, picking Freddie up in his arms and carrying him back to the house. “Lock ’em up, Nan!”
“I shall have to, if they aren’t better,” Nan said, with a shake of her head as she put Flossie down in the hall while Bert did the same with Freddie.
“No, you don’t!” suddenly cried Bert, as he locked the door out of which the mischievous ones had darted. He saw Freddie making a sly attempt to open it again.
“What happened?” asked Nan. “I was coming down to get the flatiron for Aunt Sallie and I heard the children scream.”
“They were only yelling for fun and because they played a trick on me,” laughed Bert. “They wanted to go out and get some snow, but I wouldn’t let them.”
“Of course not!” agreed Nan. “The idea!”
“But we got out, anyhow, didn’t we, Flossie?” laughed Freddie.