climbed in beside her and Bobby and Twaddles took their places in
the front seat beside Father Blossom. "He was such an excellent
driver."

"Well, in a way, he kept me from learning," said her husband,
starting the car a trifle unevenly. "Sam was so fine a driver I
was perfectly content to let him run the car and never even felt
ambitious to drive myself. If we want to go anywhere this summer,
I'll be glad I have my own driver's license. What's the matter,
Twaddles?"

"I dropped my handkerchief," announced Twaddles sadly. "Right in
the mud. See? it's back there, Daddy."

"Well, I hardly think we'll stop for that," said Father Blossom
judicially. "You've plenty of those little cotton things and I
want to go as far as the lake road before supper time."

"It wasn't a little cotton thing," reported Twaddles, whose
conscience was peculiar in that it usually bothered him too late.
"I borrowed one of your nice, white hankies, Daddy, to wrap my
sick bird in."

"Well, I must say!" sputtered Father Blossom. "I must say! Oh,
Twaddles, why do you always do something you shouldn't? Those
handkerchiefs are pure linen and hand-initialed. I'll have to
stop--you run back and see if you can find it."

He stopped the car and Twaddles obediently jumped out and ran back
to the place where he had dropped the handkerchief. When he had