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With a sudden rush, the bobsled started. Dot clutched Meg frantically, and even Twaddles was startled. They had no idea it would seem so "different." The wind almost took their breath away, but they still had enough to scream with. You've noticed, haven't you, how every one on a bobsled just naturally screams when it is flying down a steep hill?
"I'm hungry!" he decided, opening the pantry door. "Skating always gives you such an appetite." He had heard some one say this. As in most pantries, the favorite place for the Blossom cake box was on the highest shelf. Why this was so, puzzled Twaddles, as it has puzzled many other small boys and girls.
"I can't get out," said Bobby, struggling. "Lend us a hand, can't you, Twaddles?" Bobby had fallen with enough force to wedge himself tightly into the heart of the bush, and indeed it was no easy matter to dislodge him. Norah took one hand and Meg the other, and they tugged and pulled till Norah was afraid they might pull him out in pieces. "Where's Sam?" panted Meg.
Father Blossom opened the door for them, and they were glad to see the fire blazing cheerily in the living-room. "Well, well, how did the party go?" asked Father, pulling off Meg's gloves for her, and drawing her into his lap. "Presents, too? Why, Twaddles, I thought this was Marion's birthday." Twaddles unscrewed the top of his candy jar and offered Father Blossom a green-colored stick.
"I never saw this side of it, did you, Meg?" asked Bobby. "Look, this must have been the lean-to where Mrs. Harley did the washing. Yes, here's an old wooden tub all fallen to pieces." The children poked about in the rubbish carelessly until Twaddles happened to spy one of the apple trees on the point.
But Twaddles, who had thrown his arms around Bobby's neck, managed to grin. "Well, what do you know about that!" he ejaculated in his funny, serious little voice. That made them all laugh, and then Father Blossom began to ask anxiously if any one was hurt. "No one, thank goodness," Mother Blossom assured him, opening the tonneau door so that Meg and Dot might step out.
Twaddles backed out of the pantry, into Norah who had come downstairs, freshly gowned, to start her supper. "Glory be!" she ejaculated. "Twaddles, what have you been up to now? If you've been messing in my pantry, I'll tell your mother. What's that all over your hands?" "Jam," said Twaddles meekly. Norah eyed him with suspicion. "There's no jam there," she said.
Meg looked serious. "I don't know," she admitted. "Maybe she cried?" "Mothers don't cry," said Twaddles in fine scorn. "Do they, Daddy?" "I cried," confessed Mother Blossom, smiling at the astonished Twaddles. "I'll never forget how I felt so far from home and with a heavy, fretting baby in my arms. I just sat down on a rock and cried. And Bobby cried with me."
"Shall we have a boat like this? Daddy left the car in the garage." "A car's no good on the water," said the captain loftily. "What you want is a seaworthy, tight little craft. You're going to live in the Winthrop bungalow, aren't you? Well, then, you'll have two rowboats." "Then Dot and I can have one," Twaddles remarked with satisfaction. Captain Jenks looked at him in some amazement.
"Say, Sam, I want to get out." "You do? Why?" asked Sam, without turning his head. "I saw a glove back there in the road," Twaddles announced. "A nice glove, Sam, that somebody lost." Sam said "Whoa!" to the horse and turned to look at Twaddles. "How far back a mile?" he asked suspiciously. "Just a little way," Twaddles replied earnestly. "I want to go get it, Sam. Please. It's a good glove."
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