“Give it to me,” he shouted, bobbing right side up again. “See, Dot, it’s a water pistol!”
“Well, I don’t think that’s a good thing to give you,” pronounced Meg decisively. “You’ll be hitting Dot in the eye.”
“Won’t, neither,” retorted Twaddles, feeling unjustly accused. “Aunt Polly asked me what I wanted most last time she was here and I told her; and she said if I’d promise not to shoot at people, she’d get me one. So there!”
Bobby, the peace-maker, proposed that they all go in and show their presents to Norah, and he helped Meg carry Philip downstairs because she was sure the trip would hurt his leg. Bobby was never in too much of a hurry to do what Meg wanted him to do.
In the afternoon, after lunch, all the Blossoms went for a long ride in the car, stopping at the foundry office on the way home to pick up Father Blossom. Still nothing was said about the children going home with Aunt Polly.
“Do you suppose Mother will let us?” asked Dot, as Meg was helping her undress that night. “Maybe she’s afraid I will use up my clean 32 dresses too fast, and Aunt Polly won’t have any to put on me. But you could lend me yours, Meg.”
“No, I don’t believe that’s the reason,” said Meg slowly. “I tell you what I think––I think Mother and Daddy have to plan a lot before they know whether we can go. But you ought to be more careful with your dresses, Dot.”
The next morning Mother Blossom announced that if the children would come out on the porch she had something to tell them. There was a general stampede from the breakfast table––Father Blossom had had an early breakfast and had gone before the others were down––and Aunt Polly in the swing and Mother Blossom in a huge rocking-chair were nearly smothered in a shower of kisses.
“Are we going to Brookside?”
“Are we going home with Aunt Polly?”