“That’s right,” responded Mrs. Worrett, heartily.  “I didn’t know but what, with hot weather, and company in the house, and all,—­there’s a chicken, Johnnie,” she exclaimed, suddenly interrupting herself, as a long-legged hen ran past the door.  “Want to chase it right away?  You can, if you like.  Or would you rather go upstairs first?”

“Upstairs, please,” replied John, while Elsie went to the door, and watched Alexander driving away down the dusty road.  She felt as if their last friend had deserted them.  Then she and Johnnie followed Isaphiny upstairs.  Mrs. Worrett never “mounted” in hot weather she told them.

The spare chamber was just under the roof.  It was very hot, and smelt as if the windows had never been opened since the house was built.  As soon as they were alone, Elsie ran across the room, and threw up the sash; but the moment she let go, it fell again with a crash which shook the floor and made the pitcher dance and rattle in the wash-bowl.  The children were dreadfully frightened, especially when they heard Mrs. Worrett at the foot of the stairs calling to ask what was the matter.

“It’s only the window,” explained Elsie, going into the hall.  “I’m so sorry; but it won’t stay open.  Something’s the matter with it.”

“Did you stick the nail in?” inquired Mrs. Worrett.

“The nail?  No, ma’am.”

“Why, how on earth did you expect it do stay up then?  You young folks never see what’s before your eyes.  Look on the window-sill, and you’ll find it.  It’s put there a purpose.”

Elsie returned, much discomfited.  She looked, and, sure enough, there was a big nail, and there was a hole in the side of the window-frame in which to stick it.  This time she got the window open without accident; but a long blue paper shade caused her much embarrassment.  It hung down, and kept the air from coming in.  She saw no way of fastening it.

“Roll it up, and put in a pin,” suggested John.

“I’m afraid of tearing the paper.  Dear, what a horrid thing it is!” Replied Elsie in a disgusted tone.

However, she stuck in a couple of pins and fastened the shade out of the way.  After that, they looked about the room.  It was plainly furnished, but very nice and neat.  The bureau was covered with a white towel, on which stood a pincushion, with “Remember Ruth” stuck upon it in pins.  John admired this very much, and felt that she could never make up her mind to spoil the pattern by taking out a pin, however great her need of one might be.

“What a high bed!” she exclaimed.  “Elsie, you’ll have to climb on a chair to get into it; and so shall I.”

Elsie felt of it.  “Feathers!” she cried a tone of horror.  “O John! why did we come?  What shall we do?”

“I guess we shan’t mind it much,” replied John, who was perfectly well, and considered these little variations on home habits rather as fun than otherwise.  But Elsie gave a groan.  Two nights on a feather-bed!  How should she bear it!