remember where he had put them, when he came in from school the day
before.

"You've got to come and help me hunt for 'em!" Flossie went on. "Mamma
says she can't find the straps."

"All right. I'll come," spoke Freddie. "Snap, you stay here!" he
ordered, but the big dog only blinked, and stuck out his tongue
farther than ever. Perhaps he had already made up his mind what he
would do when Freddie let him alone.

Off toward the house went the little fat Freddie. He was pretty plump
--so much so that his father often called him a little "fat fireman."
Freddie was very fond of playing fireman, ever since the time he had
owned a toy fire engine. But to-day he had other ideas.

"I'll find those straps," he said, as he toddled off. "Then we'll
hitch Snap to my express wagon, and Flossie and I'll have a fine ride.
Don't you run away, Snap."

Snap did not say whether he would or not. Flossie, standing on the
side porch, waited for her little brother. She was just his age, and
only a little smaller in height. She was just about as fat and plump
as was Freddie, and both had light curly hair. They made a pretty
picture together, and if Freddie was a "fat fireman" Flossie was a
"fat fairy," which pet name her father often called her.

"Did you look under the sofa for the straps?" asked Freddie when he
had joined his sister.