“Except to eat her breakfast and dinner and supper,” amended Johnny.
“And to put on and take off her shoes and stockings,” added Tiny; “though you can do even that sort of hopping about on one foot, for I’ve tried it.”
“Well, I should think she would be just about tired to death, every night of her life,” said Johnny; “and yet she’s every bit as nice and pleasant when she says good night, as she is when we go down to breakfast in the morning. I tell you what it is, Tiny Leslie, I’m tired of waiting for her just to happen to sit down where we can catch her. I mean to write her a note, and ask her to meet us in the haymow, and fix her own time!”
“Why, yes,” said Tiny, joyfully; “that’s the very thing. Why didn’t we think of it sooner, I wonder? Will you write it right away, Johnny, or wait till after dinner?”
“Oh, right away,” said Johnny; “dinner won’t be ready for an hour and more.”
So Johnny asked his mother for a sheet of paper and an envelope, and wrote very carefully,—
“Dear Miss Ann:—We want to speak to you about something, but you don’t ever sit down, or at least we never see you. Can you meet us in the haymow this afternoon, at four o’clock? If you haven’t time, we will do something to help you, if you will let us.
“Very respectfully yours,
“John Leslie.