Perhaps the little green imp came and
whispered into his ear again, I don't know, but how else account for
Willie's queer actions?
He slipped quietly out of bed, paused to listen at the door of his
mother's room but heard no sound. Reassured, he crept noiselessly
down the back stairs into the kitchen, out through the rough room
into the shed where the corn was kept. He filled the pockets with
hen corn, the bright moonlight shining in through the window gave
him all the light he needed, until his pajamas looked as though they
had the bubonic plague. Still moving with extreme caution, he went
into the kitchen again, secured a pan into which he put his corn; he
then proceeded to fill the pan nearly full of water. He listened but
all was quiet, so he ventured even into the pantry where his mother
kept the cookie crock. He again filled his pockets, this time with
cookies. His night work over he carried the pan containing the corn
and water to his room, put the pan as far under the bed as possible
to avoid discovery, then seated himself by the open window to enjoy
his lunch.
Pages:
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74