Dot ran off to the Apgar house as fast as her short legs would carry her, to find Jud and ask him if he had taken their toys in out of the rain. The other children followed Bobby along the brook.
“Because our feet are as wet as they can be, now,” he said, “and if Aunt Polly is going to scold, getting them wetter won’t make her scold any more.”
“It looks like more rain,” worried Meg, scanning the clouds. “Why don’t we go back, Bobby, and come out after dinner? If the raft floated as far as the woods, the trees will keep it dry.”
Bobby was very damp and very hungry, and he, too, thought that after dinner would be a better time to hunt for the toys.
“Come on, Twaddles,” he shouted. “We’re going back.”
Twaddles was some distance ahead, and he 77 turned so quickly that one foot slipped. Meg and Bobby saw him tumble into the brook with a loud splash.
It wasn’t very deep, but it was very wet, and though Bobby reached him in a second, poor Twaddles was frightened.
“I’m so co-old!” he wept loudly. “I want Mother!”
“Well, don’t stand here all day,” said Bobby practically. “Take hold of Meg’s hand, and we’ll run to the house. Linda was making soup this morning, Twaddles. Think how good nice, hot soup will taste!”
Meg took his hand, and, Bobby on the other side, Twaddles ran with all his might toward dry clothes and hot soup. It was raining hard again.