Four Little Blossoms on Apple Tree Island by Mabel C. Hawley


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Page 1

VII BEGINNING THE JOURNEY

VIII OLD BROOKSIDE FRIENDS

IX ON THE WAY AGAIN

X ON THE ISLAND

XI A DAMP ADVENTURE

XII SUNNY SUMMER DAYS

XIII A SIGNAL FOR HELP

XIV THE RESCUE

XV BOBBY'S GREAT DISCOVERY




CHAPTER I

THE NEW CAR


Half of a small boy protruded from the oven, his stout tan shoes
waving convulsively.

"Twaddles!" Nora coming into her orderly kitchen was amazed.
"Glory be, child, are you making toast of yourself?"

The shoes gave a final wriggle and Twaddles deftly backed out of
the oven, turning to show a flushed face and a pair of dark,
dancing eyes.

"What are ye doing?" insisted Norah curiously. "The sponge cake
was baked and put away hours ago."

"Oh, I don't want any of your sponge cake," Twaddles assured her
loftily, forgetting, perhaps, the many times he had hung around
the kitchen door during Norah's baking and teased for "just one
bite." "I'm life-saving, Norah."

"You're what?" asked Norah incredulously.

Twaddles sat down comfortably on the stone hearth before the old-
fashioned coal range and began to clean caked mud from the soles
of his shoes.

"It's a robin," he explained. "A sick robin, Norah. I found him on
the grass, and he was too cold and wet to fly. Mother used to put
'em in the oven when she was a little girl and that made 'em all
well again."

"You'll scorch him," said Norah, stooping down to look. "That oven
is nearly hot enough to bake biscuit in, Twaddles. Wait, I'll wrap
your robin up in cotton and we'll put him on the shelf warmer;
that's about the temperature he needs."

Twaddles, assured of expert attention for his patient, scrambled
to his feet.

"I have to go out in front and watch for Daddy," he announced
importantly. "I want to see what color the new car's painted. Sam
said to be sure and write him."

Norah, working over the faintly peeping young robin, blushed very
red.

"You take the brush pan and broom," she directed Twaddles, "and
brush up that mud. Wasn't it only this morning your mother was
telling you not to be making extra work?"

Twaddles obediently seized the dustpan and the long-handled broom.
His intentions were doubtless of the best, but he was a stranger
to the ways of broom handles. This one, in his hands, caught the
lid of a kettle Norah had on the stove and sent it spinning across
the room to land with a noisy clatter in the sink. Twaddles
privately considered this a distinct feat, but Norah was
unappreciative.

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Fri 26th Apr 2019, 10:18