“I remember now—it’s come to me—’twa’n’t on that upper shelf at all,” said Grandma. “I took it down one day, ’cause thinks I ’twon’t be so easy for me with my rheumatics to stretch clear up there, an’ I put it on the one underneath.”
“I’m glad it’s on the one underneath,” said Davie, joyfully. So he got down from his heights, and put the box in the corner and the apples back in it again. Then he hopped up on the chair and peered all along the bottles and various things cluttered up on the shelf.
“Is it a very big bottle?” he asked, his blue eyes roving anxiously over the array.
“O my land, no,” said Grandma; “’tain’t big, an’ it ain’t little. It’s jest a bottle.”
“Oh,” said Davie, trying to think what he ought to leave out in the search.
“You better bring me one or two that you think is it,” said Grandma at last.
So Davie picking off from the shelf some “jest bottles” hurried with them to Grandma’s bed.
“My sakes!” she said, not looking at them and lifting up her hands, “what a sight you be, Davie Pepper!”
“You’re all dirt,” said Peletiah pleasantly.
“I didn’t s’pose I had any cobwebs in that cupboard,” said Grandma in a mortified voice. “An’ you’re all a-runnin’ with sweat. Well, you’ve got to wipe your face—there’s a towel there on th’ bureau.”