“Why darling!” said Mother Blossom in alarm.  “Don’t you feel well?  Are you tired?  Here, come sit in Mother’s lap and tell her what the trouble is.”

Dot put down her spoon and ran to her mother, who lifted her up.  The little girl buried her face in Mother Blossom’s frilly collar and began to sob.

“P-oor Mr. Harley!” she choked.  “We’re having such a nice time, and he can’t find his two little boys!  I kn-ow he’d like to eat supper wif ’em!”

Dot seldom used “baby talk” but to-night she was tired and excited.

“Bless the child, what is she talking about?” demanded Aunt Polly curiously.  “And look at this battery of solemn round eyes!  What ever ails these lambs, Margaret?”

Mother Blossom, holding Dot close, explained about Mr. Harley.

“Didn’t his wife stop here, Polly?” she asked.  “Can you recall whether she said where she was going?  Just a word might give him something definite to work on.”

Aunt Polly shook her head.

“I remember seeing her very well,” she said.  “She had the two boys with her and I wanted her to spend the night.  But no, she insisted she must ‘go to the city’.  Then I suggested that she leave the boys with me until she found work, if that was what she wanted, and that, I think, frightened her.  I couldn’t coax her to stay for supper after that.  I certainly am sorry for Mr. Harley.  Tell him his wife spoke most kindly of him and evidently believed that he was not in his right mind when he left her and the children.”

Twaddles being discovered asleep with a cake in one hand and a piece of bread and butter in the other, the four little Blossoms were swept away to hot baths and bed a few minutes after Aunt Polly finished.  And the next thing they knew it was bright daylight and Jud was whistling on his way to the milking.

“I’m going, too!” Bobby hopped out of bed and began to dress hastily.

“So’m I!” Dot sat up and shook Meg.  The troubles of Mr. Harley had fled with Dot’s dreams and she was her usual merry self.  “Come on, Meg, we haven’t seen Carlotta yet.”

Meg was ready to get up and Twaddles woke before Bobby had tied one shoe, so the four little Blossoms, helping each other, managed to be dressed and downstairs before Jud had started to milk.

“Well, if this doesn’t seem like old times!” he exclaimed grinning at them as they entered the barn.

“Forgotten how to milk, Meg?” asked Peter Apgar, coming into the dairy barn from feeding the horses.  “Want to try it this morning?”

“I don’t think I’ve forgotten how,” said Meg cautiously, “but I’d rather Jud milked, ’cause he can do it so much faster than I can; and then he can go round with us and see the things.”

That little speech pleased Jud mightily and pleased Peter Apgar, too, because, you will remember, Peter was Jud’s father.

“You go sight-seeing this minute, Jud,” he ordered his tall son.  “Guess I can do the milking on a special morning like this.”