“We were,” went on Flossie.  “But we wiggled out, an’ you didn’t see us wiggle.”

“No,” agreed Nan, “we didn’t see you.  But, oh, I’m so glad you are all right!” she cried, and she hugged Flossie in her arms.  “You aren’t hurt, are you?”

“No, but I was tickled,” said Flossie.  “The hay did tickle me in my nose, and I wanted to sneeze.”

“But I wouldn’t let her!” explained Freddie.  “I held my hand over her nose so she couldn’t sneeze.”

“I tried hard so I wouldn’t,” said Flossie, “and Freddie helped me.  It feels awful funny not to sneeze when you want to.  It tickles!”

“And the hay tickled me,” went on Freddie.  “It’s ticklin’ me now.  There’s some down my back,” and he wiggled and twisted as he stood in the middle of the barn floor.  Snap, the big dog, put his head to one side, and cocked up his ears, looking at the two smaller twins as if asking what it was all about, and what the digging in the hay was all for.

“Well, it’s mighty lucky laik dat it wasn’t no wuss!” exclaimed fat Dinah, with a sigh of relief.  “I suah was clean skairt out ob mah seben senses when yo’ come runnin’ into mah kitchen, Nan, an’ says as how Flossie an’ Freddie was buried under de hay!”

“And they were!” said Nan.  “I saw the hay go down all over them.”

“So did I!” added Bert.

“But we wiggled out and hid so we could fool you!” laughed Freddie.  “Didn’t you see us crawl out?”

“No,” answered Bert, “I didn’t.  If I had I wouldn’t have dug so hard.”

“Ouch!  Something tickles me awful!” complained Freddie, twisting around as though he wanted to work his way out of his clothes.  “Maybe there’s a hay-bug down my back!” he went on.

“Good land of massy!” cried Dinah, catching him up in her arms.  “Yo’ come right in de house wif me, honey lamb, an’ ole Dinah’ll undress yo’ an’ git at de bug—­if dey is one!”

“I guess we’ve had enough fun in the barn,” said Nan.  “I don’t want to play here any more.”

“I guess we’ll have to put back the hay we knocked down,” said Bert.  That was one of the Bobbsey rules—­to put things back the way they had been at first, after their play was done.

“Yes, we must put the hay up in the mow again,” agreed Nan.  “Daddy wouldn’t like to have us leave it on the floor.  I’ll help you, Bert, ’cause I helped knock it down.”

Dinah led the two younger twins off to the kitchen, with a promise of a molasses cookie each and a further promise to Freddie that she would take out of his clothes whatever it was tickling his back—­a hay-bug or some of the dried wisps of grass.

Bert and Nan had not long been working at stacking the hay back in place before Sam came in.  He had heard what had happened from Dinah, his wife, and he said, most kindly: 

“Run along an’ play, Bert an’ Nan!  I’ll put back de hay fo’ yo’ all.  ‘Tain’t much, an’ it won’t take me long.”