Van, terribly frightened at the storm he had raised, stood perfectly still in the middle of the room.
"There, now, I hope you're satisfied," said Percy, from the other side. "See what you've done. I guess you'll catch it, Van Whitney," he added pleasantly.
Van, not so much worried over what he would catch as terrified about Joel, ran over to his brother.
"Oh, do stop him," he implored, seizing Percy's hand.
"I can't stop him," said Percy; "you know yourself it's silly to ask me that."
"I must, then," cried Van, scurrying over to the foot of the bed. "Joel, do stop," he begged frantically.
"Go away!" screamed Joel, kicking lustily. "I didn't mean to say it. Oh, dear me! Mamsie—Mamsie!" he blubbered, rolling from side to side on the neat, white bed.
"I guess he's going to have a fit," said Percy cheerfully, coming up to view matters at a safe distance from the flying feet.
At this, Van's distress knew no bounds, and, regardless of all possible danger to himself, he ran around the bed and flung himself upon it, to burrow close to Joel's stubby black head.
"Joe, don't," he cried, bursting into tears and hugging him with both frantic arms.