“Am I? I thought that was just fooling,” said John uneasily. “Do I have to go?”
“You bet you do! And I’m going to give you an extra ducking for the way you’ve roughed me up, Cal. Aren’t afraid, are you?”
“N-no, I cal’late not, but—”
“Come on, then, and don’t make any noise. It’s a wonder, though, that Marm hasn’t been up already. It’s a good thing I thought to close the door.”
“But we ain’t—you ain’t going that way, are you?”
“What way? In pajamas? Of course. And you’re coming in that picturesque nightie of yours. Come on.” Ned opened the door and listened. Below stairs all was quiet, but from the end of the hall came the sounds of low whispers and an occasional giggle. Ned led the way in that direction, John following. In the Sun Parlor the rest of the boys were awaiting them, six figures in their sleeping clothes, five in pajamas of various shades and styles and patterns, and one, that of Claire Parker, in a chaste white night-gown.
“Thought you were lost,” whispered Sandy as Ned closed the door behind him. “You made a beast of a noise in there.”
“Yo heave ho!” chanted Spud softly. “Who’s first down?”
“You,” said Hoop. “We want something soft to fall on.”