"I'll tell you what it is, Flaxie," said Preston, with an air of wisdom that was not lost upon his listener; "I know how this engine is put together as well as father does; and I'll bet you I could make one, if I only had the tools, and knew how to use em!"
"S'pose you could, honest?"
"Yes, to be sure. There, Flaxie, the clock is striking eight. Now you'll have to go to bed."
Flaxie's forehead began to pucker, and her elbows to jerk.
"Then you must go, too, Pres Gray."
"O, but I want to fix up my compersition, so I can play Saturday. Come, now, if you'll go to bed first, I'll give you all my fire-crackers."
Miss Frizzle's brows smoothed.
"And the pin-wheels too? Fire-crackers isn't much."
"Ye-es; and the pin-wheels too. I'll fire 'em for you. Only you'll have to go to bed as quick as scat, or I'll take it all back."