“Mrar,” says I, “we will go in and make a fire and act like mother’s just gone out to a neighbor’s.”
Then she begun to laugh, and one of her tears stuck to an in-spot that comes and goes in her face like it was dented with your finger.
“But now you mind,” I says, “if aunt Ibby or uncle Moze goes to whip us for this, you tell them I put you up to it and made you go along with me.”
Mrar looked scared.
“And you tell them,” says the Whizzer, lifting his wheel across the snow toward the gate, “that I put you both up to it and made you go along with me.”
I pulled Mrar over the drifts, and we went to the side door.
“Aunt Ibby’s got the big key,” I says, “and I’ll have to raise a window while you wait here.”
The windows were all locked down, but we went round and round till the one in the shed give way, and I crawled through and bursted the latch off the kitchen door. I breathed so fast it made my heart thump when I unlocked the side door and let the Whizzer and Mrar into the sitting-room. I noticed then he’d hung his wheel on the limb of a tree, for it glittered.
“Bounce ain’t here to jump on us, is he, Mrar?” says I.
“No; and he hates to stay at cousin Andy Sanders’s,” says she.