Four Little Blossoms at Brookside Farm Part 5

So that was settled, and when Bobby came back from town and Meg had finished practicing scales and Dot's three new dresses had all been tried on, the children went upstairs to their playroom to select the toys they thought they would want to take with them.

"I think we ought to take the things Aunt Polly gave us," announced Meg. "They're new, and we haven't played with them much. She might think we didn't like 'em if we left them at home."

"All right, we will," decided Bobby. "And I'll take my ball and bat.

Guess I won't break Aunt Polly's windows. There must be lots of room on a farm."

"I'm going to take the paper dolls," said Meg. "I'm pretty sure Aunt Polly will have books to read, so that's all right. What you going to take, Dot?"

"Geraldine and Tottie-Fay and the trunk," was the prompt response.

"That's three," Meg reminded her. "Mother said we could each have two.

I tell you--you don't need the trunk; just take Geraldine's new clothes."

"All right," acquiesced Dot briefly.

Tottie-Fay was an old dollie, but dearly loved, and, as Father Blossom said when he heard that she was going to Brookside, no one could need a change of air more.

"I'm going to carry my kiddie-car," declared Twaddles serenely.

The others protested that the kiddie-car wouldn't go in the trunk; that there would be no pavement on which to ride it; that Twaddles should take a smaller toy.

Twaddles listened politely and set his obstinate little chin firmly.

He meant to take the kiddie-car.

"We'll express it," said Father Blossom kindly that night. "I'm going to send a porch swing up and a----Oh, my goodness, I almost told you.

And it is a _surprise_!"

"What is it?" cried the four little Blossoms eagerly. "Tell us, Daddy!

Ah, do! Please!"

"It can be a surprise for Aunt Polly," suggested Meg artfully. "Won't you tell us, Daddy?"

"No. I like surprises that are surprises," a.s.serted Father Blossom.

"Now, not another word does any one get out of me on this subject.

Not a word."

The next few days were very busy ones; but at last two trunks were brought down and placed in the hall, and Mother Blossom made lists and packed and explained her plans to Meg and Bobby, who, as the oldest, could be expected to remember.

"All the stockings are here, dear, right in this tray," Mother Blossom would say. "And I'm putting Bobby's blouses in this trunk. You are sure you will remember so that Aunt Polly needn't be bothered in case I don't get both trunks unpacked for you?"

Meg was sure she could remember.

"Where's Twaddles?" asked Mother Blossom the last afternoon, when she was putting in the very final things. "I haven't seen him since lunch time. Dot, do you know where he went?"

"I think he's watching Sam give Philip a bath," volunteered Bobby. "He likes the smell of that dog soap, Mother."

"I can't say I do," said Mother Blossom frankly. "It is strongly carbolic. Go and call him in, will you, Bobby?"

Bobby found Twaddles blissfully watching the s.h.i.+vering Philip enduring a last rinsing after his bath. Sam liked to keep him clean, and he said that because a dog had a broken leg was no reason why he shouldn't be washed.

"Mother says for you to come in," Bobby told his brother. "It's time to get ready for supper. Gee, that soap does smell, doesn't it?"

"I like it," Twaddles affirmed, sniffing luxuriously. "I wish we took baths with that kind."

Mother Blossom sent him to the bathroom to wash his face and hands and she brushed his hair for him herself.

"What is that I keep smelling?" she asked once or twice, "Oh, the carbolic dog-soap. Twaddles, I do wish you wouldn't handle it so much."

"Who's been to the drug store?" said Father Blossom, when they sat down to supper. "Phew! I smell carbolic, strong."

"Philip had a bath," explained Twaddles uneasily. "Perhaps you smell it, Daddy."

"Twaddles means the soap," giggled Meg. "You can't smell a bath, silly."

Father Blossom laid down his carving knife and fork.

"I can't stand that," he declared positively. "Twaddles, you needn't tell me just handling a soapy dog is responsible for the whiffs of carbolic I'm getting. What is that in your pocket?"

A dark wet stain was slowly spreading in the square little pocket of the blouse Twaddles wore.

"I--I saved a piece," he stammered. "I thought Spotty, Aunt Polly's dog, ought to have some. It's awful healthy for dogs, Daddy. Sam says so."

Father Blossom had to laugh.

"I don't doubt it," he admitted. "But that's no reason why we should have to smell it. Wrap it up and put it away if you like for Spotty.

And then come back and we'll see if we can finish supper in peace."

CHAPTER V

DOT'S ADVENTURE

"Good-by, Daddy! Good-by, Daddy dear! Good-by, dear, darling Daddy!"

The four little Blossoms all tried to hug their father at once. They were at the station, where Sam and the car had brought them, and the train that was to take them on the first lap of the journey to Aunt Polly's farm was turning the curve down the track.

"Be good," said Father Blossom, speaking as clearly as he could with Dot hanging around his neck and Twaddles pounding his chest affectionately. "Help Mother all you can, and be sure to write me nice letters."

The long, s.h.i.+ny train glided into the station, and there was a scramble among the people waiting on the platform. Apparently every one wanted to be the first to get on. It took Mother and Father Blossom and Sam and the jolly conductor to see that all four of the little Blossoms and the two bags were stowed away comfortably in two seats.

Then Father Blossom and Sam got off and stood on the platform talking through the open window until the train began to move slowly.

"Good-by!" shouted the children. "Good-by, Daddy! Good-by, Sam!"

Meg leaned over Twaddles, who was seated next to the window.