Another assault followed, while the boys laughed irreverently as Mrs. Carter’s voice was again heard, protesting,—
“Come here, Fuzz! Come to grandma! Mustn’t scratch! Come play ball!”
“You’d better let him come,” said Bert, as he waved the corn-popper to and fro.
“I suspect I shall have to, if we are to get any peace. But you must all promise not to give him one bit of the candy if he comes; it always makes him sick. Now promise.”
“Yes, yes,” said the boys.
Rob, who was through with his labors, went to open the door, and Fuzz came rushing into the midst of the group, growling, squealing, and wagging his tail in his delight at having conquered, as usual.
Suddenly there was a crash, a yelp, and a cry of rage from Ted. The boys had set the full pan of corn into a chair. Fuzz, liking the flavor of popcorn as well as any boy, had gone to get some; and, standing with his forefeet on the edge of the dish, to eat at his leisure, he had tipped the pan, corn and all, over on the top of his curly head.
