All went well for some minutes except that Ernest cut himself in his haste to shave. Presently, a call for mother floated downstairs. Mrs. Morton had gone across the road to visit with Marian. Receiving no reply, Ernest called again lustily. Dr. Morton, coming in just then, replied:
“Your mother is not here, what do you want?”
“Send Chicken Little then.”
“She’s gone for a walk with Katy and Gertie.”
“Thunderation! I’ve got to have somebody. Won’t you please call Mother?”
At this moment three girlish forms slipped into the grape arbor immediately below the boys’ window, and concealed themselves in its deepest shadow.
Mrs. Morton came patiently home to attend to the needs of her favorite son.
“What is it, Ernest?”
“Where did you put our Sunday clothes?”
“Dear me, aren’t they in the closet?”