“I’ll sit on it, Mamsie, and hold it down,” said Davie, getting on the edge of the bed. “There.”
“Ow! No, you don’t,” declared Joel, bouncing up so suddenly that Davie slid off to the floor in a little heap.
“Joel—Joel!” reproved Mother Pepper.
“Well, he was sitting all over my toes,” declared Joel, throwing his legs about, so that Mother Pepper had to tuck him all up again.
“Can’t you pin him in, Mamsie?” asked Davie, picking himself up, to hover over the bed. “I will get your big shawl-pin,” and he started for the stairs.
“Hoh! I ain’t going to be pinned in bed,” cried Joel in a dudgeon. “Mamsie, make him come back,” he whimpered. “Don’t let him get the pin, I’ll be good.”
“See that you are then, Joel,” said Mrs. Pepper. “Come back, Davie,” as he was half-way over the stairs. “Joel is going to be a good boy, and keep his feet in bed.”
“O dear,” grumbled Joel, flouncing all over the bed as David ran back, “I want Polly to come up and tell me a story.”
“Polly can’t come now,” said Mrs. Pepper. There was a little white line around her mouth; she had her back to the bed, so that Joel could not see her face.
“She never comes,” grumbled Joel. “Oh, I’m so hot. Why can’t she come, Mamsie?”