"It's needin' ashes on 'em they are," says Pat.
"Ashes!" says Jack.
"Ashes!" says Jill.
Then together, "Oh, we know where there's ashes—lots!"
"We'll fetch 'em!" says Jill, and with that I hears a scamperin' up the steps.
I was just gettin' up to chase after 'em, when I has another thought. "What's the use, anyway?" thinks I. "It's their last stunt." So I turns over and pretends to snooze.
When Pinckney shows up about six the twins has the pony carts out and is doin' a chariot race around the drive, as happy and innocent as a couple of pink angels. Then they eats their supper and goes to bed, with nary a mention of sayin' good-night to the jars, like they'd been in the habit of doin'. Next mornin' they gets up as frisky as colts and goes out to play wild Indians in the bushes. They was at it all the forenoon, and never a word about Grandfather and Aunt Sabina. Pinckney notices it, but he don't dare speak of it for fear he'll break the spell. About two he comes in with a telegram.
"Miss Gertie's coming on the four o'clock train," says he, lookin' wild.
"You don't act like you was much tickled," says I.
"She's sure to find out what a muss I've made of things," says he. "The moment she gets here I expect the twins will start up that confounded rigmarole about Grandfather and Aunt Sabina again. Oh, I can hear them doing it!"