Bobbsey easily, as he turned
over a page of the evening paper.
The next moment there came a shout from Dinah in the kitchen.
"Stop it, Freddie. Stop it, I say!" cried the fat, colored cook. "Yo'
suah am gittin' me all wet! Oh, there it goes ag'in! Stop it!"
"I--I can't!" cried Freddie. "Hold your hand over it, Flossie!"
"Oh, now it's squirting on me!" came in Flossie's tones. "Make it
stop, Freddie."
"It--it won't stop!" was the frightened answer.
"Oh! Land ob massy!" shouted Dinah. "Sam! Sam! Mr. Bobbsey, come heah
quick! It's squirtin' all ober!"
"Oh! Something has happened!" exclaimed Mrs. Bobbsey, starting toward
the kitchen.
"Maybe a water pipe has burst," suggested Mr. Bobbsey, dropping his
paper and making a jump toward the kitchen. As he did so, he heard
Dinah cry again:
"Oh, yo' am all wet, honey lamb! Yo' is all soakin' wet! Oh, now it's
comin' fo' me ag'in! Oh, stop it, Freddie! Stop it!"
"I--I can't!" was all Freddie said.
The next moment Mr. Bobbsey, followed by his wife, had reached the
kitchen. There they saw a queer sight.
In the middle of the floor stood Flossie and Freddie, water dripping
from their hands and faces. Dinah, too, was wet, and she was fairly
flying around, with a plate in one hand and a dish towel in the other.
And, all about the kitchen was spurting a stream of water, while over
by the stove stood Freddie's toy fire engine.
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