“Oh, my goodness me!” exclaimed Alexia, tumbling back. “What can it be?”
“You haven't broken your jaw, Pick?” observed Clare. “I can't imagine that.”
“I'll break yours if you don't go,” said Pickering savagely, and half smothered, as he tried to keep the pillow well before the two pairs of eyes.
This was a little difficult, as Clare, seeing hopes of running around the pillow, set himself in motion to that end. But as Pickering whirled as fast as he did, there was no great gain.
“Well, if I ever did!” exclaimed Alexia, quite aghast.
And the next moment Pickering, keeping a little opening at one end of the pillow, saw his chance; darted out of the door, and flinging the pillow the length of the hall, raced into his own room and slammed the door, and they could hear him lock it.
“Well, if I ever did!” exclaimed Alexia again, and sinking into the first chair, she raised both hands.
“What's got into the beggar?” cried Clare in perplexity, and looking out into the hall, as if some help to the puzzle might be found there.
“Well, I guess you and I, Alexia, might as well go to Polly Pepper's,” he said finally.
“And if I ever come after that boy again to tell him of anything nice that's going to happen, I miss my guess,” declared Alexia, getting herself out of her chair, in high dudgeon. “Let's send Jasper after him; he's the only one who can manage him,” she cried, as they set forth.