"What is that?" she asked sharply.
"My baby is sick," faltered John, displaying the guilty bottle.
Aunt Izzie rapped her over the head with a thimble, and told her that
she was a very naughty child, whereupon Johnnie pouted, and cried a
little. Aunt Izzie wiped up the slop, and taking away the Elixir,
retired with it to her closet, saying that she "never knew anything like
it--it was always so on Mondays."
What further pranks were played in the nursery that day, I cannot
pretend to tell. But late in the afternoon a dreadful screaming was
heard, and when people rushed from all parts of the house to see what
was the matter, behold the nursery door was locked, and nobody could get
in. Aunt Izzie called through the keyhole to have it opened, but the
roars were so loud that it was long before she could get an answer. At
last Elsie, sobbing violently, explained that Dorry had locked the door,
and now the key wouldn't turn, and they couldn't open it. _Would_ they
have to stay there always, and starve?
"Of course you won't, you foolish child," exclaimed Aunt Izzie. "Dear,
dear, what on earth will come next? Stop crying, Elsie--do you hear me?
You shall all be got out in a few minutes.
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