It was hard
work and in the midst of it the flour barrel fell over on its side,
scattering the flour over the pantry and partly on the kitchen floor.
"Oh! oh! oh!" roared Freddie as soon as he could catch his breath. "Oh,
my! oh, my!"
"Oh, Freddie, why did you go into the barrel?" exclaimed Nan, wiping off
her hands and running to him. "Did you ever see such a sight before?"
Freddie was digging at the flour in his eyes. He was white from head to
feet, and coughing and spluttering.
"Wait, I'll get the whisk-broom," said Bert, and ran for it.
"Brush off his hair first, and then I'll wipe his face," came from Nan.
"Here's the wash-rag," put in little Flossie, and catching it up,
wringing wet, she began to wipe off Freddie's face before anybody could
stop her.
"Flossie! Flossie! You mustn't do that!" said Bert. "Don't you see you
are making paste of the flour?"
The wet flour speedily became a dough on Freddie's face and neck, and he
yelled louder than ever. The wash-rag was put away, and regardless of
her own clean clothes, Flossie started in to scrape the dough off, until
both Nan and Bert made her stop.
Pages:
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100