[XXIII.]
THE CHINA MUG.
“Oh, no! I won’t have them on,” declared little Dick, shaking his head savagely, till it seemed as if every one of the small bits of brown paper must fly off.
“O Dicky!” exclaimed Polly in dismay, “you’ve bumped your head so falling down-stairs.”
“Haven’t bumped my head,” cried Dick, whirling around so that none of the children could investigate the big lumps on his head. “I wish they’d all tumble off;” and he gave another vigorous shake, that made the biggest piece of wet brown paper settle over his left eye.
“Very well,” said Polly coolly; “we must go to Mrs. Whitney then, and tell her that you are shaking off all the brown paper. I was going to tell you a story, but we can’t have it now.”
[Little Dick plucked off the big bit of wet brown paper from his eye], and looked at her. “I’ll stick them on again,” he said.
