"A week from Friday," corrected Meg. "I wish we could stay at home all the time like Dot and Twaddles. Have you Mother's list, Bobby?"

Bobby had the list in his pocket and there were really a number of things to be done.

"You hold the bag," Meg directed, "and I'll buy the things."

So Bobby held the bag and Meg did the shopping and the twins poked their short, freckled noses into all the boxes and baskets they came to.

The last errand was at the grocery store, and there were three or four people ahead of the four little Blossoms. Meg waited quietly, and Bobby was interested in watching the big machine that ground coffee, but the irrepressible twins wandered off to investigate the long row of bins with sliding covers that filled one side of the store.

"Now Meg," said the good-natured young clerk, when he had finished weighing out three pounds of prunes and two and a half pounds of rice for a fussy customer who changed her mind three times before she finally gave her order, "what can I do for you?"

"Mother wants a box of oatmeal, half a pound of mixed tea, and a pound of lump sugar," announced Meg importantly.

"Right-o!" declared the clerk, taking a long hook pole from the counter and starting for the other side of the store where the package goods were kept on the upper shelves.

Just as he reached the shelves, Meg called to him.

"Oh, Mr. Carroll," she began, meaning to ask him to bring a box of cornstarch, something Mother had written across the bottom of the list and which Bobby had overlooked when he read the list to Meg.

The clerk turned, his pole upraised, and Dot, who had been hanging over a flour bin nearly empty, slipped. Her feet flew up, her head went down, and she tripped the grocery clerk. His long pole crashed into the neat pile of boxes arranged on the shelves and a shower of oatmeal, cornstarch, macaroni and other cereals fell in an avalanche.

"I knew you'd do it," scolded Bobby, rushing forward, though of course he couldn't have known that Dot meditated such a catastrophe. In fact, that small girl was more surprised than any one else.

"I was just a-looking," she wept, when they pulled her out by her feet and she stood revealed with flour on her face and well rubbed into her dark hair and eyebrows, to say nothing of the hair- ribbon. "I was just a-looking in."

"There, there, I guess we're all right," stout Mr. Eustice, who owned the store, consoled her. "See, Dot, you're not hurt and Carroll here fell on a sack of grain which didn't break his bones.

Not even one box is smashed, so why shed tears? 'Tisn't every little girl comes to see us who can say she's been in the flour bin."

Dot continued to sob while Mr. Carroll did up the oatmeal and the cornstarch and the other things and put them in Bobby's bag. She was still crying when the four little Blossoms went down the grocery store steps and turned toward the road that led home.

"I should think you would cry," said Meg severely. "I was so mortified! Can't you go anywhere, Dot, without falling into something?"

"Don't rub it in," whispered Bobby, feeling sorry for his little sister. Then he happened to get a good look at Twaddles, who had been suspiciously quiet ever since Dot's unfortunate accident.

"Twaddles Blossom!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Bobby. "What have you sat in?"

Twaddles twisted anxiously, trying to get a look at the back of his tunic blouse and bloomers.

"Does it show?" he asked uncomfortably. "I thought perhaps it didn't. I don't know what it is, Bobby--I only sat on that little box by the pump-thing in the back of the store."

"That's where they fill the kerosene oil cans," Bobby informed him. "I guess you've gone and soaked up some of the oil. Don't go near a match or you'll burn up."

This awful prospect alarmed Twaddles beyond words.

"I'll stay out here," he quavered nervously, for by this time the four little Blossoms had reached their own front lawn. "Mother might have the fireplace lighted."

Meg and Dot and Bobby were relieved at Twaddles' decision. They had no wish to see their little brother catch fire, and fire they always a.s.sociated with kerosene oil, thanks to Norah's repeated and solemn warnings.

No one missed Twaddles until they were seated at the table.

"Where's Twaddles?" asked Mother Blossom in some alarm as she noted his empty chair. "Didn't he go to the store with you, Bobby?"

"Yes, Mother, he went with us," answered Bobby composedly, beginning to taste his soup.

"I wonder if he's upstairs washing his hands," went on Mother Blossom. "Dot, will you run and call him?"

"He isn't upstairs," said Dot quickly.

Mother Blossom stared, bewildered.

"Didn't he come back with you?" she asked.

"Oh, yes, he came back," admitted Bobby. "Didn't he, Meg?"

Meg nodded, but said nothing. All three of the children had a vague idea that they were doing Twaddles a great kindness. Of course Mother Blossom would not be pleased to find that he had sat down in kerosene oil.

"Ralph!" said Mother Blossom in an odd, choked voice. "Oh, Ralph--"

"Bobby, where is Twaddles?" demanded Father Blossom sternly.

"Where did you leave him? Is anything the matter with him?"

"He's outdoors," said Bobby desperately. "I don't think anything much is the matter with him, Daddy."

"Outdoors?" echoed Mother Blossom in wonder. "Why doesn't he come in?"

"He can't," said Dot earnestly.

"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."

Mother Blossom looked at Father Blossom, who sat perfectly still for a moment. Then he put back his head and shouted. He laughed until the tears ran down his face and Norah came in to see what the matter was.

"Don't laugh," urged Mother Blossom. "Go and bring the poor child in, Ralph."

"In a minute," Father Blossom promised. "I want to get this straight first. 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. "Mother, I begin to think an island is the only place for a family such as ours. There's one thing I don't suppose occurred to you, Bobby."

"What, Daddy?" asked Bobby seriously.

"That Twaddles might have taken off his oil-soaked suit," replied Father Blossom, going to the rescue of the lonely and hungry little fellow.