Flossie Bobbsey, who had first asked
this question of her sister, now paused in front of her older brother.
She looked up at him smiling as he cut away with his knife at a soft
piece of wood he was shaping into a boat for Freddie. "Aren't you
terrible glad, Bert?"

"I sure am, Flossie!" Bert answered, with a laugh. "What makes you ask
such funny questions?"

"Well, if you're glad why doesn't you wiggle like I do?" asked Flossie,
without answering Bert. "I feel just like wigglin' and squigglin' inside
and outside!" she added.

"Well, wiggle as much as you please, dear, but don't get your dress
dirty, whatever you do," advised Nan, with the air of a little mother,
for she felt that she must look after her smaller sister, since Mrs.
Bobbsey was not there to do it.

"Oh, I won't get my dress dirty!" laughed Flossie. "'Cause if I do----"

"'Cause if you do you can't go to the picnic!" finished Freddie, who was
so interested in watching brother Bert make the little wooden ship that
he forgot all about talking.

"I'm just goin' to wiggle standin' up," Flossie said, and she did so,
squirming about in delight at the fun which was soon to come.

"Don't forget your 'g' letters!" called Nan, shaking her finger at her
sister. "You must say 'going' and 'standing' not 'goin',' my dear, or
'standin',' you know."

"Yes, I know. But when you feel like wigglin'--I mean wigglING," and
Flossie said the last syllable very loudly, "why, then you don't think
about 'g' letters; do you, Freddie?"

"I don't guess so," he answered, not taking his eyes off the knife that
was flashing in Bert's hand, making the white slivers of wood scatter
over the green grass.

"Oh, I just can hardly wait till the auto truck comes; can you, Nan?"
asked Flossie, dancing over the lawn like a fairy in a play. "Oh, I'm so
glad it doesn't rain!" and she looked anxiously up at the sky as if some
cloud might float across the wonderful blue and spoil the day of
pleasure.

"Yes, the weather is lovely," agreed Nan. "And if you don't think so
much about it, Flossie, the truck will get here all the sooner."

"But I _like_ to think about it!" cried Flossie. "It's the same as
Christmas! The more you think about it the more fun it is! Oh, I'm going
to look down the road and see if the truck is coming!"

Down toward the front gate she skipped, the big bow of ribbon on her
hair flapping up and down like the wings of some great blue butterfly.

"Be careful about