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Updated: May 17, 2025
Do you mean to tell me, Bobby, that you left Twaddles outdoors because you were afraid he would catch fire? How long did you expect him to stay there?" "Well, we didn't know," admitted Bobby lamely. "I guess it will wear off by morning." Father Blossom wiped his eyes and laid down his napkin. "I'll go and get him," he said, rising.
"They're going to bring us something nice. They promised." Meg pulled off her hat and unbuttoned her coat. "I'm starving," she announced. "It's awfully cold out. What are you doing anyway, Twaddles?" "Sliding down the banisters," answered Twaddles calmly. "See, we spread down sofa cushions so 's we wouldn't hurt ourselves. It's Dot's turn now. Hi, Dot!" he ended in a shout.
"We have to take care of the twins," Bobby informed him as the four little Blossoms marched aboard over the gangplank Captain Jenks let down especially for them. "Meg and I are old enough to go to town but Dot and Twaddles are only four." "What is in the basket?" asked the kind captain, fearing an explosion from Twaddles, who was furious at this public reference to his age.
Voltaire is not to be mentioned, Schiller twaddles through a tissue of sheer inventions and impossible absurdities, and even Southey, who strives to be faithful to history, thinks he must invest her with a 'suppressed attachment' in order to render her sufficiently interesting to be the heroine of a poem. PAUL. Well, and the final conclusion to all this?
"You don't think it will hurt Dot, then?" said Mother Blossom as her husband began to pull on his coat ready to go to the foundry. "Oh, it's a sunny day and she is about over that cold," he answered. "I think the fresh air will do her good." Dot and Twaddles, who had heard the question and were listening anxiously for the reply, sped away to the kitchen to tell Norah where they were going.
"I think we ought to have some jelly on the table, don't you?" said Dot. "We never have enough jelly. Mother likes currant." "You get it, and I'll open it," promised Twaddles. "Bobby never lets me have the can opener." Dot got a chair and climbed up on it. She was just able to reach the shelf in the closet where the tumblers of jelly were kept.
"Where are we going to have supper?" speculated Dot, as she snuggled into the car beside Mother Blossom. Dot was a great girl to consider the future. "Can't you guess?" teased Mother Blossom. "I know!" cried Meg. "Aunt Polly's." Dot and Twaddles enjoyed a little nap that sunny afternoon, but Meg and Bobby were wide awake every instant.
Then at last he thought he had found something he could eat. It was in a smooth, round glass jar with a screw lid and was a clear jelly-like substance that looked as though it might be marmalade or honey or some kind of jam. He opened the jar without trouble and sniffed at the contents. It smelled very good indeed. Twaddles plunged in an investigating finger. The jam stuck to his finger.
To be sure there was Annabel Lee, but the cat was in a sleepy mood and refused to wake up sufficiently to be amusing. "Oh, dear," sighed Twaddles. "There's nothing to do. I wonder where Norah is?" He scuttled down to the kitchen, which was in beautiful order, but no Norah was in sight She was up in her room changing her dress, but Twaddles did not know that.
"Where's Mother?" Meg and Bobby Blossom demanded the moment they opened the front door. It was the first question they always asked when they came home from school. Twaddles, their little brother, looked up at them serenely from the sofa cushion on which he sat cross-legged on the floor at the foot of the hall stairs. "Mother and Aunt Polly went uptown," he informed his brother and sister.
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