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Page 14
"She's calling you now," announced Twaddles. "You go on in. I'll
stay and help Daddy."
"Well, do you know," said Father Blossom respectfully, "while I'm
very much obliged to you, I think there's nothing you can do for
me just at present. Can't you do something for Mother or Norah?"
"Norah's ironing," Twaddles answered disconsolately. "She says I
make her nervous when she's ironing. And Mother is helping make
Dot a dress."
"I'll tell you," cried Father Blossom. "How would you like to do a
little packing for me? You would? That's fine. Down cellar you'll
find an old basket; you take that up to my room and put everything
you find in the lowest desk drawer into it. Then I'll carry it
down when I come in. The lowest drawer, remember. I've been
wanting to clear that out for a long, long time, and I mustn't go
away on a trip and leave that trash there."
"Dot! Dot!" called Norah. "Your mother says you should come right
away."
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. They promised, and when Dot
had resumed her old dress, without the basted petticoat, they
earnestly set to work.
"What a lot of stuff!" exclaimed Dot, turning over a rusty bolt
curiously. "What's this for, Twaddles?"
"I don't know," said Twaddles. "Don't putter, Dot. Mother says the
way to get a job done is to work steadily."
Thus admonished, Dot put both her hands in and brought up a
quantity of old papers mixed with bits of string, little ends of
sealing wax and many other things she would have liked to stop and
examine if Twaddles had not been the foreman.
There was a good deal of dust and loose dirt in the drawer, which
had been waiting for Father Blossom to put in order for months,
and Twaddles, who was really a neat little workman, brought a
newspaper, after they had the drawer cleared out, and spread it on
the floor. Then he tipped the empty drawer over this and all the
dirt and dust was caught on the paper.
"Now that's done," he announced with satisfaction, folding up the
paper and stuffing it on top of the already full basket. "I'll put
the drawer back and then I'll carry the basket down to the
cellar."
"Daddy said he'd take it," objected Dot.
"But he'll be glad to find I've done it," said Twaddles
confidently. "Look out, Dot--push that paper down. Gee! it is kind
of heavy."
He staggered off toward the stairway, the basket in his arms. He
had filled it so full that he could not see over the top and, just
as he reached the head of the stairs, his foot caught in a rug.
The basket pitched forward, but Twaddles caught the banister rail
and saved himself from falling.
"Glory be!" Loud rose the wail of Norah, who was in the lower hall
on her way upstairs with a pile of clean sheets. "Glory be, what's
all this dirt raining on my clean front stairs!"
CHAPTER VI
ERRANDS IN TOWN
Well, accidents will happen, and after all no one scolded very
much. To be sure, the dust and dirt and screws and rusty bolts and
little pieces of paper were pretty thoroughly scattered about the
hall and on the stairs, but Twaddles and Dot worked like beavers
to pick them up. And Norah was so glad that Twaddles had not
tumbled with the basket that she did not grumble at having to
brush the stairs down for the second time that day. Father Blossom
understood that Twaddles was trying to surprise him, so he did not
scold when he came in from the garage and heard what had happened.
And, really, Annabel Lee was the most injured. Not only were her
nerves startled by the racket (she had been curled up asleep on
the newel post, a favorite resting place of hers) but a long nail
had rapped her smartly on the sensitive tip of her cat nose.
Annabel Lee found it hard to forgive Twaddles for that
performance.
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