"Huh?" said Uncle Rob, staring at us.
Bess and I didn't dare speak,—and Dad didn't want to.
"Coming down now?" asked Uncle Rob.
And then Bess and I exploded and Dad howled. I told you he had no sense of humor.
It took Uncle Rob a full minute to grasp the situation,—and then he swallowed something big.
"I'll go and get another step-ladder," he said, and started for the door.
"Don't you do it,—don't you do it," called Dad. "I won't have them all in here. Get up on a chair and hold my feet."
Uncle Rob climbed on a chair and reached up.
"Leggo my ankles,—leggo my ankles," shouted Dad, shaking the step-ladder and trying to kick without moving his feet.
Uncle Rob dropped his hands, and Dad groaned.
I began to get worried about that time; for I knew his arms were nearly breaking, so he couldn't keep them up much longer,—and his knees were wabbling more and more all the time; and I didn't know what the dickens we were going to do—and then Bess had an idea.
