Norah took Twaddles' wrists in her hands gingerly, for he was a very sticky child, and turned his hands over to examine them.
"Jam, is it!" she snorted indignantly. "You just go and show yourself to your mother. See what she says about the jam. I declare, you can't keep a thing from the young ones in this house!"
Twaddles was glad to escape from the kitchen before Norah should discover the many things out of place in her pantry, and he went into the living-room, carefully holding out his gummy hands before him, to find his mother.
"Now, Mother," he began hesitatingly, "I was real hungry, so I thought
I'd eat a little piece of cake. I knew you wouldn't mind."
"I didn't know we had any cake in the house," said Mother Blossom, in surprise.
"We haven't," explained Twaddles hastily. "So then I thought bread and jam would be nice. But I never saw such funny jam; I can't get it off."
Then, as Norah had exclaimed, Mother Blossom cried: "What in the world have you been into, Twaddles?"
She looked at his sticky fingers and then burst out laughing.
"My dear child," she said seriously, "I'm afraid you've found Daddy's pot of glue!"
And that is just what Twaddles had been into, and a fine time he and Mother had getting the sticky stuff off his fingers. It took them so long, using hot water and sand soap, that Mother Blossom declared they could not toast marshmallows that afternoon, and then Twaddles was sorry he had not waited.