DRIVING WITH DADDY
Dot wore a blue serge sailor suit and she had four pockets, two in the
skirt and two in the blouse, and in addition there were two pockets in
the blue reefer coat she wore. Apparently all six pockets were stuffed
full of something.
“Mother said you shouldn’t put things in the pockets of your cloth
dress,” Meg told her little sister. “They get stuck up and gummy and
she can’t clean them.”
“Well, I thought I was going to wear this dress all day,” explained
Dot, looking earnestly at Father Blossom, “so I wanted some raisins in
case anyone was hungry while we’re out driving this afternoon.”
Dot showed them her coat pockets stuffed with raisins, packed in so
tightly that they made two hard lumps. It was these hard lumps Father
Blossom had felt when she brushed past him.
“What’s that in your blouse?” asked Bobby.
“My choc’late turkey,” said Dot. Alas, the chocolate had melted and the
turkey was now sadly mixed with blue serge and red flannel.
“What’s in the other pocket?” suggested Twaddles.
Dot looked a little confused.
“Cookies,” she said. “I thought Norah wouldn’t mind. I only took three.”
“And both her skirt pockets are stuffed full of nuts!” announced Meg,
who had been examining them. “Salted nuts. I’ll bet you didn’t ask
Mother if you could have them, either.”
“Well, I was going to afterward,” said Dot, half crying. “I didn’t eat
a single thing. I was saving them for folks to have this afternoon. So
there!”
“Run along in and get ready for dinner,” directed Father Blossom,
trying not to look at Sam, lest he laugh. “Next time, ask Mother, Dot;
you are old enough to know you mustn’t help yourself to food without
asking.”
Mother Blossom sighed a little over the stuffed pockets, for Dot’s
dresses seemed to be always in need of cleaning and repairing. But she
said that she knew her little girl had not meant to be careless and
that no one should be scolded on Thanksgiving Day.
“And I don’t believe even you will be hungry after you eat the dinner
Norah has for us,” said Mother Blossom smiling as she tied Dot’s pretty
new red hair-ribbon on the thick dark hair. “There is the bell--suppose
you run down, Dot, and that will save Norah a trip to the door.”
Dot, looking very neat and pretty in her red and white dotted challis
dress, danced downstairs to let Miss Florence in. Dot had such dark
hair and eyes that all shades of red just suited her. Meg’s frock was
blue and white challis and her hair-ribbon matched her blue eyes.
By the time old Mrs. Jordan and the lame Paul had arrived and had
warmed their cold hands at the blazing wood fire in the living-room,
Norah said dinner was ready. And such a dinner as it was! Aunt Polly
had sent the turkey from Brookside Farm and most of the vegetables,
too! And the currant jelly was the reddest you ever saw, and certainly
the pumpkin pie was the yellowest! Pale little Miss Florence, who sewed
all day long, day after day, week after week, for the people in Oak
Hill and who had no family of her own to love her, said she had never
tasted such delicious stuffing as came out of the big brown turkey,
and as for Mrs. Jordan and Paul they ate as though a good dinner was a
solemn and important affair, and perhaps it was to them.
“It isn’t snowing, is it, Daddy?” said Twaddles, the moment dinner was
over.
“No, I shouldn’t say it was actually snowing,” answered Father Blossom
teasingly, “but it looks very much to me as though it might snow. The
paper said snow today and those clouds are pretty heavy.”
“But you said if it didn’t snow, you’d take us,” urged Bobby. “Didn’t
he, Meg?”
“Yes,” nodded Meg. “Yes, you did, Daddy.”
“Then I must keep my word,” said Father Blossom gravely. “Mother, have
you enough wraps to keep us all warm?”
Mother Blossom had brought down heavy coats and robes and blankets
early that morning, and now she and Norah began to wrap up the guests
to make them comfortable for the drive. Father Blossom’s car was big
and roomy, with side curtains that could be put up in case of a storm,
but it was not a closed car. All the Blossoms were fond of plenty of
fresh air and they liked to be warmly bundled up and then to ride
through the wind and cold and come home with rosy cheeks and bright
eyes and, goodness, such appetites!
Sam brought the car around and first Mrs. Jordan was helped in, then
Paul next to her, and then little Miss Florence who, as Father Blossom
said, hardly took up any room at all. Mother Blossom took one of the
folding seats and Meg the other. Meg wanted very much to sit next to
her father, but she was little woman enough not to tease when she knew
there were others to be considered. Mother Blossom had explained to the
children that this ride was really to give pleasure to Miss Florence
and Mrs. Jordan and Paul, who seldom enjoyed an automobile trip.
“Tuck Dot away in there with you, Mother,” said Father Blossom, lifting
that small girl in, “and I’ll take the boys with me. Then coming home,
Dot may changes places with Twaddles, if she likes.”
Finally everyone was nicely packed in and away they went, leaving Sam
and Norah to talk over the dinner and eat their own and wash the dishes
and put them away.
“Don’t forget to feed Philip and Annabel Lee,” cried Meg, and Sam
shouted back that he would see to “Fill-Up.” This was Sam’s name for
the dog and although Meg did not like it she was used to it by this
time.
“Did you bring anything to eat, Dot?” asked Bobby, mischievously,
twisting in his seat to speak to his small sister. Dot was almost
buried under the wraps and blankets in the tonneau.
“No, I didn’t,” she said indignantly. “I meant to bring my turkey, but
he’s stuck to my serge dress.”
“Daddy!” cried Twaddles suddenly. “Oh, Daddy, I dropped Bobby’s knife!”
Twaddles never went out in the car that he didn’t drop something. His
family were used to his habit and sometimes Father Blossom stopped the
car and sometimes he didn’t. It depended on what Twaddles dropped. This
time Father Blossom knew he could not have dropped anything in the road
because he was safely tucked in between Bobby and himself.
“Daddy, make Twaddles leave my knife alone!” said Bobby. “He never even
asks me if he can have it and he’s always losing it. It’s my knife.”
“I’ll get down and pick it up for you,” offered Twaddles generously.
“You leave it alone!” cried Bobby furiously. “I’ll get it myself, and
if you ever touch it again----” Bobby didn’t say what would happen, but
from the frown on his face Twaddles was left to guess that it would be
mighty serious.
However, Twaddles had a will of his own and he began to wriggle,
intending to slip down to the floor and recover the knife. Bobby flung
his arm around him to hold him and then, as Twaddles kicked, Bobby
began to kick, too.
“Children!” said Mother Blossom in warning, but she was too late.
Father Blossom stopped the car.
“Meg and Dot, change places with Bobby and Twaddles,” he said very
quietly. “Hurry, please, and don’t keep us waiting.”
Sam Layton often threatened to make them change places when they
argued, but this was the first time it had ever really happened to
them. Poor Bobby and Twaddles got slowly down and Meg and Dot crawled
out and up on the front seat with Father Blossom. Then, when the robes
and blankets were all fixed again, they drove on. Bobby and Twaddles
were very quiet for half an hour and Meg and Dot did not talk much,
either. Father and Mother Blossom and the guests had the conversation
all to themselves.
“Ralph!” said Mother Blossom, when they had driven several miles,
“Ralph, I do believe it is beginning to snow.”
“I thought so myself a few minutes ago,” answered Father Blossom.
“I’ll go on to the next cross-roads and turn. We can be home before it
storms heavily.”
But the white flakes began to come faster and faster and the road was
white when they reached the cross-road. Father Blossom turned the car
and they started back to Oak Hill. Dot was half asleep, though she
would have been much aggrieved if anyone had said so, when Meg said
excitedly that she saw something in the road.
“Look, Daddy, over under that bush!” she insisted. “Let me get out and
see. Oh, maybe it’s lost in this snowstorm!”
“Let Bobby go, Daughter,” said Father Blossom stopping the car. “Bobby,
don’t you want to run over and see what that is under the bush?”
Bobby was very glad to go and he was out in a minute and running across
the road.
“It’s a dog, Daddy,” he shouted. “A little white dog. And he is so
cold!”
“Bring him here and we’ll take care of him,” said Father Blossom,
smiling at Meg who was nearly jumping up and down with anxiety. “Trust
Meg to see an animal in trouble. I never should have noticed that bit
of fluff under the bush. Why, he’s almost the color of the snow!”
The little white dog Bobby brought back in his arms was so tiny and
so soft and silky that he might easily have been overlooked in a
snowstorm. He was evidently lost and had crawled under the bush in an
effort to keep warm. Meg held him on her lap and put her muff over him
to keep the cold air off.
“He has a silver collar on,” she reported, “but I can’t read it. Can
you, Bobby?”
Bobby leaned over the back of the seat and looked at the collar.
“M-A-T-S-I-E,” he spelled out slowly. “What a funny name. But there’s
some more--C-L-I-F-T-O-N P-A-R-K.”
“Why, Clifton Park is thirty miles from here,” said Father Blossom
in surprise. “The poor dog never could have come that distance. I
wonder----”
Before he could say what he wondered, a handsome shining limousine,
coming down the road slowly from the other direction, stopped. The
chauffeur held up his hand.
“Have you seen anything of a dog?” he asked anxiously. “A little white
dog, with a silver collar?”
And maybe that chauffeur wasn’t surprised when four children shouted at
him, “Is the dog’s name ‘Matsie’?”
“Yes, we found such a dog,” said Father Blossom, smiling. “Back about
forty rods, under a bush. He was pretty cold, but he seems to be all
right.”
The chauffeur came over and took the dog Meg held out to him.
“I’m much obliged to you,” he said awkwardly. “It would cost me my
job if I went home and told ’em I’d lost Matsie; that dog’s worth
a thousand dollars and took first prize at the last dog show. Mrs.
Hemming thinks a heap of him.”
“Well, it is easy to lose a small animal like that,” said Father
Blossom. “Don’t you think you’d better shut him up in a safe place till
you get home?”
“You bet I will,” grinned the chauffeur. “I guess Matsie dropped out
when I went into a rut back there; the rest of the trip he rides down
under the seat tied fast.”
He thanked the Blossoms again for finding the dog for him and went
back to his car, and Father Blossom continued the journey toward home.
Twaddles, who had been remarkably silent the whole trip, spoke just as
they were coming into Oak Hill.
“Well, I never dropped a dog out of the car, did I?” he said seriously,
and Mother Blossom kissed him and said no, he never had.
“But you’ve dropped about everything else,” declared Bobby gloomily.