"I've been bad," said Van, not looking at her, but dropping his eyes to the floor.
"Oh, Van!" Mrs. Whitney laid her hand on her heart, and all the pretty flush died from her cheek. "What—" but she couldn't get any farther, for somebody fumbled at the door, and, without any further announcement, walked in.
"O dear me!" exclaimed Percy, withdrawing when he saw Van.
"Come in, Percy," called his mother, before he could beat a retreat. It would be some relief to have both of her boys, but what could have happened!
So Percy walked in, and he stood just like Van, only worse, for he didn't seem to know what to do with his hands.
"Why, what is it? What can it be?" cried their mother. "Oh, do tell me, boys; don't be afraid."
Van turned off on his heel till he got his back to Percy. Then he found his tongue. But it was only to say again, "I was bad."
"Well, so was I," Percy got the words out with great difficulty, staring gloomily at the carpet, and thrusting his hands in his pockets to pull them out as suddenly.
"You must just tell me what you have done," said Mrs. Whitney, looking desperately first at one and then at the other, "or I shall go for Mrs. Fisher," and she started for the door.
"Oh, no, no, Mamma!" they cried together, and Van whirled around and held her gown.