The "kids" were in bed, and Miss Marston
was in her own room, so we had the schoolroom to ourselves; and in about
five minutes after Nannie got through telling us, we were all quite
worked up and all talking at once. You see we didn't want papa to begin
working again on the Fetich as he had done, for Dr. Archard had said
right out that that was what made him ill; and yet we didn't see,
either, how we could prevent it.
"Let's steal the Fetich and bury it in the cellar," proposed Betty,
after a good deal'd been said; "then he _couldn't_ work at it, for it
wouldn't be there, you know."
Her eyes sparkled,--I think she'd have liked no better fun than carrying
off the Fetich; but Phil immediately snubbed her. "Talk sense, or leave
the council," he said so crossly that Nannie put in, "Why, _Phil_!" and
Betty made a horrible face at him.
Then Fee spoke up: "Say, how would it do for us, we three,--you, Phil,
and Betty and I,--to tell the _pater_ how mean we feel about that
beastly joke, and then run through the potential mood in the way of
beseeching, imploring, exhorting him not to slave over his work in the
future as he's been doing in the past months.
Pages:
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203