“I sure did,” answered her brother, trying to smile.
“And you spilled the peaches, didn’t you?” went on Freddie. “Didn’t you spill the peaches, Bert?”
“I guess anybody can see that,” Bert said.
“What will Mr. Watson say?” asked Flossie.
“I don’t know,” answered Bert. “But you two run into the barn now and I’ll pick ’em up.”
“We’ll help,” kindly offered Flossie.
“’Course we will!” added her twin brother.
“It won’t take long with all of us helping,” put in Nan.
Mr. Bobbsey, with the help of some of the men who were sorting peaches in the barn, turned the cart over on its wheels again, and then began the work of tossing back into it the spilled peaches.
“No great harm done,” said the man in charge of the sorting. “These are bruised peaches anyhow, and a few more knocks won’t make ’em any worse. It’s a good thing you were driving Tramper instead of a livelier horse, my boy,” he continued, “or he might have run away when he felt the cart going over.”