"Yes, darling, I'll come;" as she turned to go into the bedroom adjoining the kitchen, there was the sound of a jump overhead, a patter of bare feet, a squabble on the stairs, and Budd and Cherry, the irrepressible ten-year-old twins, tumbled into the room.
"I'll haul those kids back to bed for you, mother," shouted March, and flung himself out of bed to join the fray, while Rose was not behindhand in making her appearance.
Mrs. Blossom came in with little May in her arms, and that was the signal for a wholesale kissing-party in which May was hostess.
"Children, children, you'll smother me!" laughed their mother. "Here, sit down on the rug and warm your toes,—coming over those bare stairs this cold night!" And down they sat, Rose and March, Budd and Cherry and little May, in thick white and red flannel night-dresses and gray flannel pajamas.
Budd coughed consumptively, and Cherry followed suit. March shivered and shook like a small earthquake, and Rose looked up laughingly at her mother.
"We know what that means, don't we, Martie," she said. "Shall I help?"
"No, no, dear,—in your bare feet!"
Mrs. Blossom took a lamp from the shelf over the fireplace, and, leaving the five with their fifty toes turned and wriggling before the cheering warmth of the blazing hickory logs, disappeared in the pantry.
"Oh, bully," said Budd, rubbing his flannel pajamas
