"Come up to my den."
Sister's small face went very white.
"I didn't mean to, honest I didn't, Jimmie!" she cried, hurling
herself on that astonished young man and clinging desperately to
his coat lapels. "I didn't know they were there till they fell
over."
"What ails her?" Jimmie demanded, staring at his father. "What
fell over?"
"Your case of butterflies," Brother informed him sadly "We were
playing out in the barn and Betty reached up to open a window and
the pole knocked the box off."
"Well, I must say--" began Jimmie wrathfully. "I must say! If you
two don't learn to leave my things alone--"
"Save your lecture, Jimmie," advised his father quickly. "I didn't
know about the butterflies, but I want to ask the children about
something else. Come upstairs, now. You, too, Mother."
Brother and Sister followed Mother and Daddy Morrison upstairs,
puzzled to know what was to be said to them. If the butterflies
made so little difference to anyone--except Jimmie, who was
perfectly boiling, it was plain to see--what else was there to
scold them about? For that it was to be a scolding neither Brother
or Sister doubted--hadn't Daddy called them "Rhodes" and
"Elizabeth"?
"Now," said Daddy Morrison, when they were all in the little room
he called his den and he had closed the door, although it was a
warm night, "what were you doing this afternoon?"
"Playing in the barn," answered Brother.
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