"Oh! oh! oh!" roared Freddie as soon as he could catch his breath. "Oh, my! oh, my!"
"Oh, Freddie, why did you go into the barrel?" exclaimed Nan, wiping off her hands and running to him. "Did you ever see such a sight before?"
Freddie was digging at the flour in his eyes. He was white from head to feet, and coughing and spluttering.
"Wait, I'll get the whisk-broom," said Bert, and ran for it.
"Brush off his hair first, and then I'll wipe his face," came from Nan.
"Here's the wash-rag," put in little Flossie, and catching it up, wringing wet, she began to wipe off Freddie's face before anybody could stop her.
"Flossie! Flossie! You mustn't do that!" said Bert. "Don't you see you are making paste of the flour?"
The wet flour speedily became a dough on Freddie's face and neck, and he yelled louder than ever. The wash-rag was put away, and regardless of her own clean clothes, Flossie started in to scrape the dough off, until both Nan and Bert made her stop.
"I'll dust him good first," said Bert, and began such a vigorous use of the whisk-broom that everybody began to sneeze.
"Oh, Bert, not so hard!" said Nan, and ran to open the back door. "Bring him here."