“Where is your big canoe?” demanded Amy, who could scarcely paddle from laughter, in spite of the evident danger the children were in.
“That is what we started after,” said Montmorency Shannon, his red head sticking out of the barrel like a full-blown hollyhock. “It got away in the night, or somebody let it go, and we saw it away down by the Carter place. So—so we thought we’d go after it.”
“And I warrant your mothers don’t know what you are doing,” Jessie said sternly.
“Oh, they will!” cried Henrietta, virtuously.
“When they miss the washtubs,” put in Amy, with laughter.
“When we tell ’em,” corrected little Henrietta. “And we always tell ’em everything we do.”
“I see. After it is all over,” Jessie commented.
“We-ell,” said Henrietta, pouting, “we can’t tell ’em what we have done before we do it, can we? For we never know ourselves.”
“You certainly cannot beat that for logic,” declared Amy. She drove the head of the canoe to the tub of the nearest Costello twin. “Get in here carefully, Micky. You are going down.”
“That’s ’cause Aloysius always gets the best tub. He ain’t sinking none,” said Michael Costello, scowling at his twin.