THE WILLING PACKERS
Meg rushed into the house.
"Dot Blossom, you're not to touch my books," she scolded. "The idea!
Why don't you fuss with your own things?"
Dot looked vexed.
"I'm helping you," she explained. "Don't you want to take your books
to Aunt Polly's to read rainy days? Well, then, I'll pack 'em for
you."
Mother Blossom had followed Meg, and now she intervened.
"No one is to pack anything to-day," she said firmly. "I want Dot to
go into town with a message for Miss Florence. And Meg must practice
on the piano half an hour at least. This afternoon we're going to take
Aunt Polly driving. After she goes home there will be plenty for all
of us to do to get ready."
Miss Florence Davis was the dressmaker who often came to the house to
make clothes for the Blossom children, and Dot set off presently for
her house, carrying a note to her. Miss Florence had no telephone. She
said she wasn't home long enough to answer it. But she always left a
slip of paper pinned to her door to tell people at whose house she was
sewing, and her customers were used to going about the town till they
found her.
"She says she can come," reported Dot when she returned from her
errand. "She can give you four days, Mother. Where are the boys?"
Mother Blossom looked at her small daughter and sighed.
"I thought you knew Sam painted the fence last night," she said
mildly.
"I did, but I forgot," explained Dot, trying to fold over a pleat so
that the vivid streaks of green paint would not show. "I guess I kind
of brushed up against it, Mother."
Usually when Aunt Polly went home the four little Blossoms were
disconsolate, but the next morning they saw her to the station quite
cheerfully. Were they not going to Brookside themselves exactly one
week from that day?
"Now we must fly around and get ready," announced Bobby, when they
returned to the house. Bobby had a great trick of remembering speeches
he had heard older folk make.
"Indeed then and you must," agreed Norah, who was sweeping the porch.
"Your mother wants Dot in the sewing room. Miss Florence is ready to
try on. And, Bobby, it's sorry I am, but we're out of soap."
It was rather a long walk to the grocery store, and Bobby didn't think
that going for soap promised one bit of excitement. Neither did Meg
want to practice the piano scales that one day were to make her a good
musician. Norah knew something of what they were thinking.
"You'll both be helping your mother to get ready to go," she said
earnestly and kindly. "I've got extra washing to do, for all your
clothes must be clean. And if Meg's going to stop learning music every
time a new plan comes up, she'll grow up to be terrible ignorant of
lots of things."
"All right, I'm going," said Bobby quickly. "An' you'll be through by
the time I get back, Meg. Then I guess we can pack the toys."
Twaddles, left alone, wandered up to the sewing room.
"Hello, Twaddles," said Miss Florence pleasantly. "Have you come up to
see what pretty dresses Dot is going to have? And what is this I hear
about every one going to Brookside?"
"We're going to see Aunt Polly," explained Twaddles. "And, Mother, can
we take toys? Bobby's all ready to pack 'em as soon as he gets back."
"If you don't pack something pretty soon, the house won't hold you,"
observed Mother Blossom, smiling. "You see, Twaddles dear, Mother
doesn't believe you will need many toys at Brookside. There will be so
many wonderful new out-of-door things for you to play with. Suppose we
say that each of you may choose the two things you are fondest of.
That won't make so much to carry."
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," asserted 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 shivering 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."