"An' I say you ain't a-goin' to either, Elviry Hansell," she declared; "that box ain't yours."
Elvira had no time to retort, "An' 'tain't yours either, Matilda," for she was struggling so with the boys that she had too scant breath to waste in replies. But she whirled a red face over to her sister for a second, while she twisted her wiry little arms in frantic endeavors to get free from the stronger grips upon them.
"Come on," said Matilda, coolly, to Jane, and to Luke, who never would take part in any family quarrel against Elvira, "and we'll pull her petticoat and tickle her legs. Then she'll let go."
"That's not fair," said Luke, glowering at her.
"Huh, I don't care."
"An' 'tis, too," cried Matilda, gleefully. "Come on, Jane, you tickle one leg, and I'll tickle the other, and then she's got to let go."
"Ow," cried Elvira, who knew quite well what to expect from the tickling process, and tucking up first one leg, then the other. "Go 'way, I'll kick dreadful!"
"She will," said Jane, fearfully, who also knew what to expect, as she and Matilda crouched on the floor, with fingers all ready for the attack.
"Huh! S'posin' she does? 'Fraid-cat," said Matilda, scornfully, "can't you scrouge back?"
"No, I can't," said Jane, truthfully, "not in time."