"Dear me," exclaimed that small person in surprise, "I guess that's the petticoat Miss Florence basted a ruffle on. I must have forgotten to take it off."
"She's calling you now," announced Twaddles. "You go on in. I'll stay and help Daddy."
"Well, do you know," said Father Blossom respectfully, "while I'm very much obliged to you, I think there's nothing you can do for me just at present. Can't you do something for Mother or Norah?"
"Norah's ironing," Twaddles answered disconsolately. "She says I make her nervous when she's ironing. And Mother is helping make Dot a dress."
"I'll tell you," cried Father Blossom. "How would you like to do a little packing for me? You would? That's fine. Down cellar you'll find an old basket; you take that up to my room and put everything you find in the lowest desk drawer into it. Then I'll carry it down when I come in. The lowest drawer, remember. I've been wanting to clear that out for a long, long time, and I mustn't go away on a trip and leave that trash there."
"Dot! Dot!" called Norah. "Your mother says you should come right away."
Dot scuttled for the house, and Twaddles, delighted with the idea of helping his father, ran to find the basket. Dot was securely pinned into her new frock when he came panting upstairs, and she implored him to wait until she could help pack, too. Twaddles generously consented, and Mother Blossom warned them not to touch anything except the one desk drawer. They promised, and when Dot had resumed her old dress, without the basted petticoat, they earnestly set to work.
"What a lot of stuff!" exclaimed Dot, turning over a rusty bolt curiously. "What's this for, Twaddles?"
"I don't know," said Twaddles. "Don't putter, Dot. Mother says the way to get a job done is to work steadily."
Thus admonished, Dot put both her hands in and brought up a quantity of old papers mixed with bits of string, little ends of sealing wax and many other things she would have liked to stop and examine if Twaddles had not been the foreman.