"Does it show?" he asked uncomfortably. "I thought perhaps it
didn't. I don't know what it is, Bobby--I only sat on that little
box by the pump-thing in the back of the store."

"That's where they fill the kerosene oil cans," Bobby informed
him. "I guess you've gone and soaked up some of the oil. Don't go
near a match or you'll burn up."

This awful prospect alarmed Twaddles beyond words.

"I'll stay out here," he quavered nervously, for by this time the
four little Blossoms had reached their own front lawn. "Mother
might have the fireplace lighted."

Meg and Dot and Bobby were relieved at Twaddles' decision. They
had no wish to see their little brother catch fire, and fire they
always associated with kerosene oil, thanks to Norah's repeated
and solemn warnings.

No one missed Twaddles until they were seated at the table.

"Where's Twaddles?" asked Mother Blossom in some alarm as she
noted his empty chair. "Didn't he go to the store with you,
Bobby?"

"Yes, Mother, he went with us," answered Bobby composedly,
beginning to taste his soup.

"I wonder if he's upstairs washing his hands," went on Mother