“Hurray! Hurray! We can go out!” shouted Freddie, capering about the room like a pony in a pasture.
“And I’m going to make snowballs!” declared Flossie. “But don’t you dare wash my face, Freddie Bobbsey!”
“All right, I won’t,” he promised, on his good behaviour for a time, lest Nan change her mind about letting him out.
“Did you get any letters from daddy or mother?” asked Nan, as Bert put his bundles on the kitchen table.
“No mail, and the wires are down,” he said. “But I guess we’ll get a letter to-morrow.”
“I hope so,” sighed Nan. “Did you get Mrs. Pry’s liniment?”
“Yes, here it is.”
“I’m glad you got it,” went on Nan. “She’s asked for it two or three times. Her lumbago seems to be getting worse.”
“Maybe we’ll have to get the doctor for her,” suggested Bert.
“Oh, I hope not,” exclaimed Nan. “If she got very sick, I don’t know how I could wait on her and look after the house.”