“You always talk,” he complained, as Dot pushed him over toward the wall.
Meg and Bobby postponed their thoughts till they had taken the kittens out to the garage and fed them. They begged a piece of rug from Norah and an old box from Sam, and they made a comfortable bed.
When they came in from their labors, Twaddles was still sitting on the stair step, but Dot had disappeared.
“How’s your brain working, Twaddles?” asked Bobby, as older brothers do.
“It’s working,” Twaddles answered soberly.
Norah said supper was ready at that moment, so there wasn’t time to find out what Twaddles 152 was thinking. And after supper came bedtime at its usual fast pace––the four little Blossoms were sure that something happened to the clock between supper and bedtime; the hands came unscrewed, or something, and went around twice as fast as they worked the rest of the day.
“We’ll find homes for the kittens when we come home this afternoon,” Meg promised at the breakfast table the next morning. “I’ve fed them, Mother, and can’t Dot and Twaddles take them some milk this noon? Miss Mason wants us to stay and practice the songs for Thanksgiving.”
Norah had put up a neat little lunch for Meg and another for Bobby and the twins were almost beside themselves with envy. Would the time ever come, they thought, when they could go to school and sometimes have to stay over the noon hour and not come home to lunch? They were sure there could be nothing more exciting, except the actual going to school, than taking one’s lunch in a boy and eating it with a crowd of other hungry children.
“Let’s go see the kittens,” Twaddles suggested, 153 as soon as Bobby and Meg had gone.
Dot trotted after him to the garage. They found Sam busily picking up little furry bodies and scolding under his breath.