“No, let me sweep. You empty those baskets of excelsior.”
“Where?”
“Where?”
“Yes. Can we burn it?”
“No, never. No more fire for us,” groaned Nancy. “Just dump the stuff some where.”
“But we can’t, Sis,” objected Ted. “Mother 'specially said nothing could be dumped around.”
“Well, do anything you like with it, but just get it out of the way,” and Nancy’s excited broom made jabs and stabs at corners without quite reaching them.
Ted was much more methodical. He really would do things right, if only Nancy would give him a chance. Just now he was carefully packing the excelsior in a big clothes basket.
“You know, Nan,” he remarked, “Mr. Sanders is awfully funny.”
“How funny?” asked Nancy crisply.