"And there was a trundle bed full of pickanninies and they kept popping their heads up. They were so ridiculous--with their little pigtails sticking up all over their heads, and their bead eyes." "Well, old Charlie warmed us up all right and started us back on the road again," said John Hardy gratefully. "And there's another thing sure," said Marian, interrupting this flow of reminiscence, "you can't go back to town to-night, and you must be tired to death, all of you. Mother Morton, if you will take the girls over with you, Frank and I will make some pallets by the fire for these boys, and let them get some sleep." * * * * * The real sport of this excursion came the next day when Frank Morton hitched an extra team on in front of the livery horses and drove the party back to town himself, to make sure they did not come to grief again in the piled-up drifts. But Chicken Little and Sherm were not along. They watched them drive off with never a pang of envy. "I have had enough bobsled riding to do me for this winter," said Jane wearily. Her evening at Fatinitza seemed a thousand years away. "Ditto, yours truly!" And Sherm yawned luxuriously. CHAPTER XVIII AN APRIL FOOL FROLIC Mrs. Morton and Marian were sitting by the great open fire at the cottage sewing for Jilly. Jilly herself had constructed a wonderful vehicle of two chairs hitched to the center table, and she was vainly trying to persuade Huz and Buz to occupy seats in this luxurious equipage. Lazy Buz, having once been dragged up into a chair, stayed put, though he looked aggrieved, but Huz had his eye on the braided rag rug in front of the fireplace. The moment Jilly's gaze was attracted elsewhere, he would jump softly down and curl up on the rug. Marian had risen three times to restore him to Jilly because she mourned so loudly, but she finally began to sympathize with the pup. "Let him be, Honey, you've got Buz for company. Huz doesn't want to play." Jilly opened her mouth to wail. Then she suddenly changed her mind, climbed down, and going over to Huz began whispering vigorously into his ear. Her warm breath tickled Huz and he flopped his ear to drive away the annoying insect. Jilly beamed, calling joyfully to her mother: "Huz say ess, Mamma, Huz say ess." "But Jilly, Huz can't talk." "He nod he's ear, Mamma. Huz nod he's ear." The unfortunate Huz went up into the chair once more. Mrs. Morton glanced out the window where the March wind was whipping the bare branches of the cherry trees into mournful complaining. Eddying leaves fluttered from the heaps accumulated in fence corners or beneath the friendly shelter of the evergreens. A huge tumble weed went whirling down the road, passed on by each succeeding gust. In and out of the cedars, the robins were flying, prospecting for new nests. She pushed back her hair and sighed.