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Updated: June 17, 2025
It hopped right across Bertrand Ashe's foot and Meg went to pick it up and it went, plop! into Palmer Davis's inkwell. Miss Mason thought Meg did it on purpose." "What hopped?" asked Mother Blossom, mystified. "And Meg, why are you frowning so at poor Twaddles?" "He knows, all right," declared Meg wrathfully. "He put that jumping grasshopper Aunt Polly sent him in my middy blouse pocket.
"Why can't he?" asked Father and Mother Blossom in chorus. Bobby and Meg and Dot saw that they could no longer shield Twaddles. "He can't come in," blurted Bobby, "because he sat down where they fill oil cans in the grocery store and the back of him is all kerosene oil and he'll catch fire and burn up if he stays in the house."
Dot and Twaddles stared at the two older children in astonishment. They wanted to go to school with all their hearts, and the idea that any one could tire of that magical place, where chalk and blackboards and goldfish and geography globes mingled in riotous profusion, had never entered their busy minds. "It's an awful long walk," mourned Bobby.
Besides Norah, there lived with the Blossoms Sam Layton, who ran Father Blossom's car and did all the outside work about the place; Philip, a very intelligent and amiable dog, and Annabel Lee, an affectionate and much beloved cat. Dear me, Twaddles had some rabbits, too. He would want you to know those. And now that you are properly introduced, let us go and see what happened to Bobby.
Dot scuttled for the house, and Twaddles, delighted with the idea of helping his father, ran to find the basket. Dot was securely pinned into her new frock when he came panting upstairs, and she implored him to wait until she could help pack, too. Twaddles generously consented, and Mother Blossom warned them not to touch anything except the one desk drawer.
Harley comfortably. "I don't suppose the boys will know me. Dick must be ten now, and Herbert's a year older. The four little Blossoms wriggled uneasily. Even Dot and Twaddles, young as they were, could guess something of what Mr. Harley's sorrow would be when he learned that no wife and children waited for his coming on pretty Apple Tree Island. Meg glanced at Mother Blossom.
"Yes, the dog can go too the more the merrier, as far as I am concerned. No, you can't drive I have to keep my mind busy some way and driving is a good plan." "Why are we going to Fernwood?" asked Twaddles. "Daddy said it was about freight." "And you don't see why we slight the Oak Hill station is that it?" Sam returned good-naturedly.
Dot and Twaddles were down at the wharf waiting to see Captain Jenks and his motor-boat, a daily habit which was encouraged by the captain, who usually brought them some little treat. "We'll go around the other side of the island, and they won't see us," said Meg, the general. "It isn't much longer, really." The other side of the island was rockier, though, and the bushes were thicker.
Is he going to Oklahoma?" "Let me fasten the boat," pleaded Father Blossom. "If our boats drift away some fine night we would be in a pretty fix. Yes, Daughter, we saw Mr. Harley and gave him the letters. He has telegraphed to Cordova, and as soon as he receives a reply he has promised to come over and let us know." "How long does it take to telegraph to Cordova?" Twaddles wanted to know.
Sam laughed good-naturedly as he turned the horse into the road he had chosen. "You'd like a good time to last as long as possible, wouldn't you, Bobby?" he said. "Well, with all the short cuts and all the time saving I can do, we won't be home before dark; does that suit you?" That suited Bobby exactly and he began to whistle. "Say," Twaddles cried, interrupting the whistling suddenly.
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