"Oh, dear me!" cried Joel, huddling up to Van, to throw his arm around his
neck, "just see what I've done!"
"Oh, you didn't do it; I did," said Van, giving Joel an affectionate
squeeze. "It was all my fault."
"No such thing," declared Joel sturdily; "if you say so again, I'll fight
you."
"And perhaps you can straighten that lace," suggested Percy, with no relish
for any further hostilities.
Van and Joel drew off to the foot of the bed, and huddled up there to
regard his efforts, as he ran around to the pillows, patting and smoothing
them straight.
"That won't do any good," said Joel, in great disfavor; "you can't make the
lace whole again."
Van sorrowfully embraced his knees, his feet tucked up under him.
"Oh, what will Jane say?" he breathed fearfully.
"Jane? I don't care for her," said Joel scornfully. "It's Mamsie," and he
swallowed hard.
"Perhaps she won't care," cried Van, leaving his knees to take care of
themselves, in alarm lest Joel was going off again.
"And just see how you've mussed up the bedspread," Percy couldn't help
saying, to relieve his chagrin over the failure to make the pillow shams
look nicely, and he drew off and pointed to it tragically. "It looks as if
crocodiles had been all over it," he declared, hunting for the worst thing
he could think of.
Joel and Van rolled fearful eyes all over the bed.
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