Joel and David could hardly sleep that night for thinking of the splendid treat of the morrow. Oh, if it should rain! They trembled as they rolled over on their backs and listened for any chance pattering on the roof.
"It doesn't rain a single drop," declared Joel, rolling over on his side again, and carrying most of the bedclothes with him.
"But it may, Joel," said little Davie, fearfully.
"No, it isn't going to," said Joel, confidently.
"Mamsie said we were to be good boys," said David, after a pause, in which Joel was lost in the wildest imaginings of sometime driving Mr. Tisbett's black horses. "Don't you know she did, Joey?" twitching his arm.
"Well, I'm going to be good. I'm always good," said Joel, jerking away his arm.
"Oh, Joel," cried little Davie, involuntarily.
"Well, I'm going to be good to-morrow, anyway," declared Joel. "You'll see, Dave; as good as pie."
"Because Mamsie said she'd trust us," continued David, "and we'd make trouble for Mr. Tisbett unless we minded him."
Joel didn't reply, trying to decide whether he should hold the reins both together in one hand or use two, Mr. Tisbett observing both methods.