"Did you leave a box here Saturday night?" Mr. Lloyd inquired pleasantly, when the boy stood before him.
The red lips began to frame a "No," then closed tightly together, while the slim little figure whirled about and made an attempt to leap over the piazza railing,—an attempt that would have been successful if one foot had not caught in a stout vine.
Royal, waiting in the wagon at the back porch, heard a sudden cry, and hurried to see what had happened. He found Bert scrambling to his feet, brisk and angry. The child made a dash towards his brother, and seized his hand.
"What's the matter?" asked Royal. No answer, but a renewed tug at his hand to draw him away.
"The little fellow tried to jump the piazza railing and fell," explained Mr. Lloyd, laughingly.
"Papa just asked him a question,—if he brought us a box Saturday night; and as he didn't want to answer, he ran," spoke up Elsie.
"I didn't, I jumped!" cried the child.
Everybody laughed.
"Can't you tell us?" asked Marge, looking at Royal. "Did your brother bring it?"
"Yes," answered Royal, flushing up.