She was on one side of the bed, and Father was on the other, ready to take a hand, as he always did under the circumstances.
They weren't pleasant, either, the circumstances, for they were,--first Father's grip on his arm, then a tablespoon--not a teaspoon, or a dessert spoon, but a tablespoon, such as a giant might use--full of a thick yellow liquid from that bottle they hated so, and pointed right at his tongue.
However, he took it pretty bravely, swallowed it, gulped, then choked back the tears. But the orange-juice, which followed the yellow stuff, almost made up for it. He always did like orange as a color better than yellow, any day.
And there was Ole Man Pumpkin again, on the dining room table, grinning, not wickedly but cheerfully. He winked at Jehosophat, just like the Ole Man in the Moon, whom he strangely resembled--as much as to say:
"We'll have a good time yet in spite of that bottle."
After all, he wasn't an enemy of the children, who would cut holes in their heads and scoop out their insides--he was their friend, was Ole Man Pumpkin, and Jehosophat felt much relieved at that.
[XII]
THE NORWAY SPRUCE
The Three Happy Children were looking at the calendar. It was a large one which had been given to Father by Silas Drown who kept the Hardware Store. On it was a picture of a meadow, with a green brook running through it; and people were haying in the meadow. It was undoubtedly a beautiful picture, but the children weren't interested in it at all. They were gazing at the numbers underneath.