The chickens presented a powerful fascination for Willy. He was revolving in his mind the question as to whether it would or would not pay to be spanked for the sake of having some fun with the chicks.
"No, no," said Janet, who had no fancy for a whipping. "We've got to do somethin' else." She paused. Slowly a gleam of mischief came into her eyes, and a smile broke over her round and rosy face. "Willy, we'll play barber."
"How do we do it?"
"I speak to be barber. Don't you remember when papa took you to have your hair cut? Well, you be papa an' you bring Bob, an' we'll cut his hair. Neal said it was turrible hot for him. Neal'll be glad when he comes home an' finds it all nicely cut."
"Course he will. Only I'd like to be barber, Janet."
"No, I will. It is my game, so I can be barber. Get the hat and be papa."
Willy obeyed, and presently returned in a large straw hat that had once been his father's farm hat, and was now relegated to a back closet for use in the children's games. Janet, meanwhile, had found a large pair of scissors in Edith's basket, unfortunately left on the porch, with which she was viciously snipping the air.
"We'll have some fun even if they did go off an' leave us," said she. "Bring along Bob. Here's the chair."
But Bob refused to be brought. He lay stretched on his side, now and then weakly wagging his tail in response to their commands, but otherwise not stirring. It was too hot to move for any one but his master.
"We'll have to do it there. We'll pretend he's a sick person that has to have his hair cut off. They do sometimes, you know," said Janet, with an air of superior knowledge. "You can be my 'sistant. Here's a scissor for you"—extracting another pair from the too convenient basket.