"Sammy Sleepyhead, step forward between the lines," commanded the king
sternly.

Sammy saw each queer little man pull a small paddle from his pocket. His
knees were shaking with fear, but he dared not disobey.

"Run!" ordered the king.

Sammy started. Spat! went the first paddle. "Ouch!" screamed Sammy.

"Faster!" cried the king.

Spat! Spat! Spat! went the paddles as he ran. "Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!"
screamed Sammy.

"Done!" cried the king, as Sammy, breathless and crying, reached the end
of the lines.

"Awake? Cured?" inquired the king.

"Uh--uh--uh-huh!" hiccoughed Sammy, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of
his nightie.

"No, you're not," cried the king. "Only sleepyheads say 'Uh-huh.' Cure
Number Two!"

Poor Sammy stood, scared and crying, while the little men, grinning
broadly now, brought big sponges dripping with water.

"Squeeze!" cried the king.

Squash! went the first sponge, right over Sammy's head.

"Ugh!" screamed Sammy as the ice-cold water poured down his back. "Ugh!
Ugh!"

The next little man stepped up, lifted his sponge, started to squeeze
it, then changed his mind.

"Crickety, flickety, fle-flo-fli!" he cried instead.

The next thing Sammy knew, he was standing in his own bathtub, wet and
shivering. His father stood beside him, holding a big dipper.

"Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!" gasped Sammy, while the water dripped from his yellow
head.

"I'm sorry, Sammy," said his father, handing him a towel. "But we can't
have any more of this nonsense about getting up. This will happen every
time you have to be called more than once. Dry yourself now, and hurry
into your clothes."

Sammy gulped and nodded. He couldn't think of anything to say just then.
But he did as his father told him to, and never once dug his fists into
his eyes or said "Ye-aw-w-w."

The next day he joined the Wide-Awakes. Sammy Sleepyhead was cured.

[Illustration: Mary Jane came back with her pail full of water]

THE GOING-TO CLUB

The Going-To Club had only one member. Bobby Brant was that member. In
fact, Bobby was the club.

It was his mother who named him the Going-To Club. It always took at
least two askings to get Bobby to do anything. Sometimes it took three
or four. Bobby was always "going to."

This club always met when there was something Bobby wanted particularly
to do; and it met most often in the spring, when the boys were out
flying their kites. In the spring nobody could get Bobby to do anything.

On