"Well, of all things!" cried Aunt Jo. "I couldn't imagine what made the suitcase move, and there it was Trouble wiggling in his sleep."
"How did you come to get into it?" asked Uncle Frank.
"Nice place. I like it," was all the reason Trouble could give.
He still had on his jacket and rubber boots which his mother had put on him when he said he wanted to go out and play in the snow with Jan and Ted.
"And, instead of doing that he must have come upstairs when I wasn't looking and crawled in here," said Mrs. Martin. "You mustn't do such a thing again, Baby William."
"Iss, I not do it. I'se hungry!"
"No wonder! It's past his supper time!" cried Aunt Jo.
"Did you find him?" called the anxious voice of Daddy Martin from the front door. He had just come in. "He wasn't down at the Simpsons'," he went on.
"He's here all right!" answered Uncle Frank, for Mrs. Martin was hugging Trouble so hard that she could not answer. She had really been very much frightened about the little lost boy.
"Well, he certainly is a little tyke!" said Mr. Martin, when he had been told what had happened. "Hiding in a suitcase! That's a new kind of trouble!"