“We’re all well, thank you, Dinah,” said Mr. Bobbsey. “Did you and Sam have a good vacation?”
“Jes’ fine!” answered Sam.
“But Ah suah did miss de chilluns!” murmured Dinah. “Whut all am dis?” she asked as she saw the baskets in the car.
“Those are some peaches Mr. Watson gave us,” said Mrs. Bobbsey.
“I’m going to make peach tarts,” added Nan.
“I think those peaches had better be sorted,” observed Mr. Bobbsey. “We went over a bit of rough road in making that detour, and some fruit may be bruised.”
“That’s right,” agreed his wife. “And as Mr. Watson told us, a few bruised peaches in a basket may spoil the whole lot. We’ll turn them out on the table and sort them.” This work was begun as soon as the Bobbseys had rested a little while.
As the last peaches from one of the baskets rolled out on the table, Nan, looking in the bottom of the container, uttered a cry, darted out her hand, and said:
“Look! I’ve found Mrs. Martin’s glasses!”
“Mrs. Martin’s glasses!” exclaimed her mother. “Where were they?”