“Where did you find Dot?” asked Bobby and Twaddles in the same breath.
Dot smiled serenely.
“I came back myself,” she informed them. “The jitney man told me how.”
Mother Blossom sat down on a camp-stool and fanned herself with Twaddles’ blue sailor hat.
“See if we can’t get to Brookside without any more mishaps,” she commanded the children. “If we had missed the boat, think of the worry and trouble for Aunt Polly. Even if we telegraphed she wouldn’t get it before she started over to meet us.”
The four little Blossoms promised to be very good and to stay close together.
Lake Tobago was a small lake, very pretty, and for some minutes the children saw enough on the shores they were passing to keep them 57 contented and interested. In one place two little boys and their father were out fishing in a rowboat and the steamer passed so close to them that the four little Blossoms, leaning over the rail, could almost shake hands with them.
“There’s another wharf! Do we stop there? Yes, we do! Come on, Dot, let’s watch!” shouted Twaddles, as the steamer headed inshore toward a pier built out into the water.
“Keep away from the gangplank,” warned Mother Blossom. “You mustn’t get in people’s way, dear.”
The pier was something of a disappointment, because when the boat tied up there the children discovered that only freight was to be taken off and more boxes carried on. There was only one man at the wharf, and apparently no town for miles.