“I’ll get the molasses for you,” Sue offered, for she knew where the barrel was kept, and once Mrs. Golden had allowed her to raise the handle of the spigot and let the thick, sticky stuff run out into the quart measure.  Sue was sure she could do this again.  So, taking the boy’s pail, she went to the molasses barrel.

It was kept in the back part of the store, and perhaps if Mrs. Golden had seen what Sue was about to do she would have stopped the little girl.  But the two customers were very particular about the sewing silk they wanted, and kept Mrs. Golden busy pulling out different trays.

Sue reached the molasses barrel, set the quart measure under the spout, as she had seen Mrs. Golden do, and raised the handle.  The next thing the storekeeper knew was when Sue came running up to her in great alarm crying: 

“I can’t stop it!  I can’t stop it!”

“Can’t stop what, my dear?” asked Mrs. Golden.

“I can’t stop the molasses from running out!” cried Sue.  “I got it turned on, but I can’t turn it off, and it’s running all over the floor!”

“Oh, my goodness!” cried Mrs. Golden, hurrying to the back of the store.

CHAPTER XXII

A SHOWER OF BOXES

Sister Sue, as soon as she had told Mrs. Golden what had happened also started to run back to the molasses barrel.  In fact she ran ahead of the storekeeper, and Sue’s hurry was the cause of another accident.

For the molasses, running out of the spigot which Sue had not been able to close, had overflowed the quart measure, and was now spreading itself out in a sticky pool on the floor.

It was a slippery puddle, as well as a sticky one, and Sue’s feet, landing in it as she ran, slid out from under her.

Bang! she came to the floor with a thud.

“Oh, my dear little girl!” cried one of the customers, who had been buying the sewing silk.  “Are you hurt, child?”

Sue, sitting in the molasses puddle—­yes, she was actually sitting in it now—­looked up, thought about the matter for a moment, and then answered, saying: 

“No, thank you, I’m not hurt.  But I’m stuck fast.  I can’t get up.”

It was very sticky molasses.

Mrs. Golden, thinking more about the waste of her precious molasses than about Sue for the moment, reached over and shut off the spigot.  It had caught and was hard to close, which was why Sue could not do it.

Fortunately, however, the little girl had nearly closed it before the quart measure was quite full, and not so much of the molasses had run out on the floor as might have if the spigot had been wide open all the while.  But, as it was, there was enough to make Sue fall, and to hold her there in the sticky mess after she had sat down so hard.

“Dear me, what a mess!” exclaimed one of the customers.

“Isn’t it!” said the other.