rub his nose off, need you? I’m awake, so take your old sponge and
go along,” growled Jack, with one eye open and a mighty gape.
“See that you keep so, then, or I’ll come and give you another sort
of a rouser,” said Frank, retiring well-pleased with his success.
“I shall have one good stretch, if I like. It is strengthening to the
muscles, and I’m as stiff as a board with all that football
yesterday,” murmured Jack, lying down for one delicious moment.
He shut the open eye to enjoy it thoroughly, and forgot the stretch
altogether, for the bed was warm, the pillow soft, and a
half-finished dream still hung about his drowsy brain. Who does
not know the fatal charm of that stolen moment–for once yield to
it, and one is lost.
Jack was miles away “in the twinkling of a bedpost,” and the
pleasing dream seemed about to return, when a ruthless hand tore
off the clothes, swept him out of bed, and he really did awake to
find himself standing in the middle of his bath-pan with both
windows open, and Frank about to pour a pail of water over him.
“Hold on! Yah, how cold the water is! Why, I thought I was up”;
and, hopping out, Jack rubbed his eyes and looked about with such
a genuine surprise that Frank put down the pail, feeling that the
deluge would not be needed this time.
“You are now, and I’ll see that you keep so,” he said, as he stripped
the bed and carried off the pillows.
“I don’t care. What a jolly day!” and Jack took a little promenade
to finish the rousing process.
“You’d better hurry up, or you won’t get your chores done before
breakfast. No time for a go as you please now, said Frank; and
both boys laughed, for it was an old joke of theirs, and rather
funny.
Going up to bed one night expecting to find Jack asleep, Frank
discovered him tramping round and round the room airily attired in
a towel, and so dizzy with his brisk revolutions that as his brother
looked he tumbled over and lay panting like a fallen gladiator.
“What on earth are you about?”
“Playing Rowell. Walking for the belt, and I’ve got it too,” laughed
Jack, pointing to an old gilt chandelier chain hanging on the
bedpost.
“You little noodle, you’d better revolve into bed before you lose
your head entirely. I never saw such a fellow for taking himself off
his legs.”
“Well, if I didn’t exercise, do you suppose I should be able to do
that–or that?” cried Jack, turning a somersault and striking a fine
attitude as he came up, flattering himself that he was the model of
a youthful athlete.
“You look more like a clothes-pin than a Hercules,” was the
crushing reply of this unsympathetic brother, and Jack meekly
retired with a bad headache.
“I don’t do such silly things now: I’m as broad across the shoulders
as you are, and twice as strong on my pins, thanks to my
gymnastics. Bet you a cent I’ll be dressed first, though you have got
the start,” said Jack, knowing that Frank always had a protracted
wrestle with his collar-buttons, which gave his adversary a great
advantage over him.
“Done!” answered Frank, and at it they went. A wild scramble was
heard in Jack’s room, and a steady tramp in the other as Frank
worked away at the stiff collar and the unaccommodating button
till every finger ached. A clashing of boots followed, while Jack
whistled “Polly Hopkins,” and Frank declaimed in his deepest
voice,
“Arma virumque cano, Trojae qui primus ab oris Italiam, fato
profugus, Laviniaque venit litora.”
Hair-brushes came next, and here Frank got ahead, for Jack’s thick
crop would stand straight up on the crown, and only a good
wetting and a steady brush would make it lie down.
“Play away, No. 2 called out frank as he put on his vest, while
Jack was still at it with a pair of the stiffest brushes procurable for
money.
“Hold hard, No. 11, and don’t forget your teeth,” answered Jack,
who had done his.
Frank took a hasty rub and whisked on his coat, while Jack was