“Here, Freddie, you let go of Flossie’s doll!” ordered Bert.
“Yes, make him give her to me!” begged Flossie.
“Shame on you, Freddie Bobbsey!” cried Nan. “Why do you want to tease your sister—and you’re a big boy? Daddy used to call you his fireman, but he wouldn’t call you that now!”
“Oh, well, I wasn’t going to hurt her old doll,” answered Freddie, as he slowly let go his hold on the doll’s legs. Nan’s appeal to him, and the mention of “fireman,” which was his father’s pet name for the little chap, made Freddie feel a bit ashamed of himself. “I wasn’t going to hurt the doll,” he said.
“Oh, he was too!” cried Flossie. “He was going to make her stand on her head.”
“Well, that wouldn’t hurt her,” Freddie answered, with a laugh.
“It would so!” declared Flossie. “Once I stood on my head and it may me feel funny and my face got red and Dinah said the blood would come out of my ears if I didn’t stand up straight, so I did. I don’t want my doll to have blood come out of her ears.”
“I don’t believe that would happen,” said Nan. “But Freddie should leave your doll alone and play with his own things. Now don’t tease Flossie any more.”
“All right, I won’t,” Freddie promised, for he was not a bad little fellow, only mischievous at times. And so was Flossie, for that matter. She wasn’t a bit better than Freddie. Being twins, they were much alike in many things.
“I’ve been trying to keep peace between them, but I don’t seem to know how to do it,” sighed Mrs. Pry. “I hope now, with Dinah and Sam gone, as well as your father and mother, that you will be good children,” she added.