I put the
wood-lice back in my pocket, and stretching my arms yawningly above my
head, I said to Jem, "How dull it is! I wish I were a bandit."
Jem generally outdid me if possible, from sheer willingness and loyalty
of spirit.
"_I_ should like to be a burglar," said he.
And then we both left the room very quietly and politely. But when we
got outside I said, "I hate that woman."
"So do I," said Jem; "she regularly hectors over mother--I hate her
worst for that."
"So do I. Jem, doesn't she take pills?"
"I don't know--why?"
"I believe she does; I'm certain I saw a box on her dressing-table.
Jem, run like a good chap and see, and if there is one, empty out the
pills and bring me the pill-box."
Jem obeyed, and I sat down on the stairs and began to get the wood-lice
out again. There were twelve nice little black balls in my hand when Jem
came back with the pill-box.
"Hooray!" I cried; "but knock out all the powder, it might smother them.
Now, give it to me."
Jem danced with delight when I put the wood-lice in and put on the lid.
"I hope she'll shake the box before she opens it," I said, as we
replaced it on the dressing-table.
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