"Am anyt'ing de mattah?" she asked. "I done heah yo' all talkin' in heah, an' I t'inks maybe dat honey lamb Freddie done got his steam enjine squirtin' watah ag'in."
"Not this time, Dinah," said Mrs. Bobbsey, for the cook was almost like one of the family. Then the twins' mother explained what the trouble was.
"I 'clar t' goodness!" Dinah exclaimed. "Suffin's always happenin' in dish yeah fambily."
It was not a very serious happening this time. Mr. Bobbsey hurried down to his lumber yard in the darkness of the June evening.
He was gone about an hour, when the telephone rang. On account of the little excitement Flossie and Freddie had been allowed to stay up, although it was long past their usual bedtime.
"I'll answer it," said Mrs. Bobbsey, as the telephoned bell stopped jingling, for Bert had started from his seat.
"Oh, it's papa," the twins' mother went on, after she had listened for a second after saying "Hello!"
"Is the boat all right?" asked Nan, anxiously.
"Yes," answered her mother, and then she turned to listen to the rest of Mr. Bobbsey's talk over the telephone.
"Papa went after the Bluebird, and brought her safely back," Mrs. Bobbsey explained, when she had hung up the receiver. "He'll be here in a few minutes to tell us all about it. He telephoned from the lumber office after he had our boat safe."