Billy wore his most impish expression, “I thought you didn’t need any help.”
Janie’s eyes flashed, “Bill Murray,” she exploded. “If you think this is funny, if you think this is any time for one of your jokes....”
Bill entered the yard and gathered the sobbing Sammy up in his arms. “Easy, old girl, easy,” he said. “Remember your temper.”
Janie bit her lip, then she rose up grimly, put one foot in back of her and gave a tremendous kick that sent her shoe flying up in the air. Coming down it lodged in the rain gutter and Billy roared with laughter. Sammy was reminded once more of the ball game.
“More ball, Janie,” he cried. “More ball.”
Janie quickly diverted his attention. “Bed time for little boys,” she said. “Sammy is going to put his pajamas on, brush his teeth, say his prayers, and go to bed.” Billy helped get his shoe laces untied, but he wanted to wash his face and hands by himself, and he dawdled for ten minutes brushing his teeth. He made quite an issue of wearing a certain pajama suit with a rabbit embroidered on the pocket, instead of the one his mother had laid out, but at last everything was settled to his satisfaction, and he said his prayers and climbed into bed.
It was quiet for a while. Billy worked at a crossword puzzle and Janie read, but she could hear the creak, creak of the springs as Sammy walked around on his bed. She looked at the instruction sheet once more, as if to draw inspiration from the written words. Mrs. Peters had written: “Bed at 7:30,” and here it was half past eight and Sammy still awake.
“What will I do, Bill? He won’t go to sleep.”
Billy took the matter in hand.
“I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Sam,” he said. “If you’ll lie down on your bed and go to sleep, I’ll stand on my head.”