Mr. Bobbsey pushed back his chair from the table, and looked around for the evening paper. Bert and Nan had some home work to do, to get ready their lessons for the next day's school classes, and Mrs. Bobbsey got out her sewing basket. There were always stockings to mend, if there was nothing else of the children's that needed attention.
The house was quiet except for the distant rattling of dishes in the kitchen, where fat Dinah was singing away as she worked. Suddenly her song ceased, and she was heard to exclaim:
"Now yo' want t' be careful, honey lamb! Doan't yo' go to muxin' up
Dinah's clean kitchen flo'."
"No, we won't, Dinah!" replied Freddie's voice.
"If any gets spilled, I'll wipe it up," said Flossie.
"I wonder what those children are up to now?" remarked Mrs. Bobbsey, as she rolled up two stockings she had just darned.
"Oh, I guess they're all right," said Mr. Bobbsey easily, as he turned over a page of the evening paper.
The next moment there came a shout from Dinah in the kitchen.
"Stop it, Freddie. Stop it, I say!" cried the fat, colored cook. "Yo' suah am gittin' me all wet! Oh, there it goes ag'in! Stop it!"
"I—I can't!" cried Freddie. "Hold your hand over it, Flossie!"