surprise.

"We haven't," explained Twaddles hastily. "So then I thought bread and
jam would be nice. But I never saw such funny jam; I can't get it off."

Then, as Norah had exclaimed, Mother Blossom cried: "What in the world
have you been into, Twaddles?"

She looked at his sticky fingers and then burst out laughing.

"My dear child," she said seriously, "I'm afraid you've found Daddy's
pot of glue!"

And that is just what Twaddles had been into, and a fine time he and
Mother had getting the sticky stuff off his fingers. It took them so
long, using hot water and sand soap, that Mother Blossom declared they
could not toast marshmallows that afternoon, and then Twaddles was
sorry he had not waited.

"Such a lot of fuss about a little glue," he complained to himself, for
Father Blossom scolded when he came home and found half of his glue
wasted and he said that Twaddles should have no dessert for his supper;
and Norah was very cross because she had to give her pantry an extra
scrubbing, Twaddles having managed to track the floor with glue. "I
have bad luck all the time," sighed poor Twaddles, blaming every one
but the one small boy who was responsible for the bad luck.

"Daddy," said Bobby that evening, "I'd like to earn some money."

"Yes, Son?" answered Father Blossom encouragingly. "What do you want