"Oh, no, you mustn't, Jane," said Joel. His brown fists wavered in the air and described several circles before they fell at his side; seeing which, Frick slipped out from underneath him and began to belabor Joel to his heart's content. "You mustn't, Jane," howled Joel.
"Now will you come." he cried. "Say, hurry up, Joe, we're all waiting. Come on!" His nose was quite bloody, and a dab here and there on his countenance gave him anything but a pleasing expression.
"Ugh!" cried Jane, with a little shiver. "You boys get right straight up from this floor, or I'll tell Mrs. Fisher."
Joel seized her apron string and howled:
"Jane, don't!"
"Yes, I will, too, Master Joel," declared Jane, twitching away the string; "for such carryings on, I never see. Oh, here's Mr. King; now he'll take care of you both," and she skipped upstairs, broom and all.
It was useless to try to slip away unperceived, for old Mr. King bore down upon them along the hall in his stateliest fashion.
"Dear me! what have we here?" as both boys slunk down as small as possible. "Why, Joel!"—it was impossible to convey greater astonishment in his tone—"I thought you were steady at work."
"So I was," cried Joel, stung to the quick; and jumping to his feet, he fairly beat the old gentleman's arm with two distressed little palms, "and he made me come out. I said I would pound him, and I had to. Oh, Grandpapa, I had to," and he pranced wildly around the tall, stately figure.
"Keep quiet, Joe," said the old gentleman, with a restraining hand; "and, Frick, get up. Oh, dear me!"—as Frick obeyed, bringing his interesting countenance to view, by no means improved by his efforts to wipe off the smears. "What have you boys been about?"