green leaves, and, seizing them in triumph, he tiptoed up the stairs, past Bessie’s door, to his own room.
“I’ve found two, Fred,” he announced. “I’ve forgotten just how they said use them, but I think it was just to put them on outside. You’d better put one on each cheek, for they are the worst.”
“How shall I make them stay?” asked Fred, after trying to balance the smooth, slippery things on his face.
Bob pondered a moment.
“Wet them,” he suggested. “That ought to make them stick.”
And he crept into bed again, clothes and all, and quite regardless of the mingled dew and dust on his small hare feet.
“I don’t see why I had to go and get poisoned,” said Fred, as he thoughtfully rubbed his puffy countenance. “Just the last of the time we’re to be here, too.”
“Say, Fred,” asked Rob suddenly, “don’t you wish we hadn’t found Mr. Muir that day?”
“I should say he found us,” said Fred. “But I like him ever so much; don’t you?”
