Joel wriggled and screamed, "Go away!" and kicked more than ever, but Van held on sturdily, and together the two boys rolled over and over across the bed, back and forth, till their breath gave out.
"Oh, just look what you are doing," exclaimed Percy, prancing up and down the room. He had started two or three times to run out and call Mrs. Fisher; then thought better of it. "You've mussed the bedspread all up; and only look at those shams!"—hanging over the footboard in extreme dismay.
Hearing these last words, both boys rolled apart and thrust up their heads, to gaze at the details in question. There they were, spick and span as usual at the top, but the lower parts were all mussed and wrinkled, while the lace at one end hung down in a small tag.
"Oh, dear me!" cried Joel, huddling up to Van, to throw his arm around his neck, "just see what I've done!"
"Oh, you didn't do it; I did," said Van, giving Joel an affectionate squeeze. "It was all my fault."
"No such thing," declared Joel sturdily; "if you say so again, I'll fight you."
"And perhaps you can straighten that lace," suggested Percy, with no relish for any further hostilities.
Van and Joel drew off to the foot of the bed, and huddled up there to regard his efforts, as he ran around to the pillows, patting and smoothing them straight.
"That won't do any good," said Joel, in great disfavor; "you can't make the lace whole again."
Van sorrowfully embraced his knees, his feet tucked up under him.