“All right,” Flossie answered.
Mrs. Bobbsey paid little attention to the small twins for a while as she and Nan were busy packing. Bert had gone down to the lumberyard office on an errand for his father. Pretty soon there arose a cry in the playroom.
“Mother, make Freddie stop!” exclaimed Flossie.
“What are you doing, Freddie?” his mother called.
“I’m not doing anything,” he answered, as he often did when Flossie and he were having some little trouble.
“He is too doing something!” Flossie went on. “He splashed a whole lot of water on my doll.”
“Well, it’s a rubber doll and water won’t hurt,” Freddie answered. “Anyhow I didn’t mean to.”
“There! He’s doing it again!” cried Flossie. “Make him stop, Mother!”
“Freddie, what are you doing?” demanded Mrs. Bobbsey. “Nan,” she went on in a lower voice, “you go and peep in. Perhaps Flossie is just too fussy.”
Before Nan could reach the playroom, which was down the hall from the room where Mrs. Bobbsey was sorting over the clothes in a large closet, Flossie cried again: