That sounded dreadful, but I dare say was not as bad as it seemed. And one day after Flaxie had taught the little folks all the games she could possibly remember, she thought of a new thing to do.
“See there, Milly,” said she, pointing to a high pile of boards behind the schoolhouse, under one of the windows. “A man has gone and put those down there, and now let’s make a house of ’em, and live in it!”
Milly hugged Flaxie, it was such a bright idea. Make a house? Of course they would! They had made cupboards out of shingles and stones, and put clay dishes on the shelves; they had dug ovens all along the bank like swallows’ nests; but a real live house, what could be so charming as that?
But when you came to think of it, it wasn’t what you might call easy work, for the boards were very heavy; and with all their tugging the little girls could only drag them a little way across the ground.
“Well, Johnny will help,” said Milly, puffing for breath. “And perhaps Freddy will too.”
She knew they couldn’t coax Freddy quite as well as they could Johnny. The little girls never once thought of asking who owned the boards, but I will tell you; it was Esquire Blake, and he was intending to use them to repair his office, which stood not far from the schoolhouse.
“’Twill be our ownty-doanty house, and nobody must come into it but us,” said Flaxie, gazing with satisfaction at the clean boards.
“The boys must come,” suggested Milly.
“Well, yes, I s’pose they’ll have to, if they help make it.”
“And Ada Blake.”