"Oh, we want more than one or two," said Twaddles, who liked a heaping measure of everything. "Come on down cellar and you fix me and I'll fix you."
Norah kept all the old newspapers in the cellar, in a corner, and every three weeks a man came around and bought them.
"I don't know exactly how to do it, but you stand still and I'll tie them on," directed Twaddles.
He had brought a ball of cord with him and now he went to work to wrap the papers around the plump Dot. He opened them out wide and she held them around her by using her arms till he had a quantity of the sheets rolled about her. Then he took his string and wound that around her several times and tied it in a strong knot.
"I don't see how I can get my sweater and coat on over this," objected
Dot when she was declared "finished."
"Oh, they'll go on all right," the cheerful Twaddles assured her. "Now do me—put on lots of papers, so I won't be cold."
Dot obediently wrapped papers around him till he was twice his usual chubby size and looked very odd indeed. Then she tied several thicknesses of the cord about him and he too was ready for the long drive.
"We rattle when we walk," said Twaddles, "but I guess that is all right."
They found some pictures that interested them, in the papers remaining on the floor and they stayed in the cellar till, to their surprise, they heard quick feet running overhead and Meg's voice in the kitchen.
"It must be noon!" said Dot, "Come on, we have to hurry."