hem for the table," Mrs. Bobbsey said. "Let
us see, girls, what a pretty dish you can make."
This was a pleasant task to Nan and Flossie, who both always loved to
play at housekeeping, and when at last Nan brought the dish in to the
dinner table everybody said how pretty it looked.
"Them's my redishes!" exclaimed Freddie, as he saw the pretty bright
red buttons peeping out from between the lettuce leaves.
"But we can all have some, can't we, Freddie?" his father asked.
"Yes, 'course you can. But I don't want all my good redishes smothered
in that big dish of green stuff," he pouted.
"Now, Nan, you can serve your vegetables," Aunt Sarah said, and then
Nan very neatly put a few crisp lettuce leaves on each small plate, and
at the side she placed a few of Freddie's radishes, "with handles on"
as Dinah said, meaning the little green stalks.
"Just think, we've done it all from the garden to the table!" Nan
exclaimed, justly proud of her success at gardening.
"I done the radishes," put in Freddie, gulping down a drink of water to
wash the bite off his tongue, for his radishes were quite hot.
"Well, you have certainly all done very nicely," Mrs. Bobbsey said.
"And that kind of play is like going to school, for it teaches you
important lessons in nature."
The girls declared they were going to keep a garden all summer, and so
they did.
It was an unusually warm night, and so nearly all the doors were left
open when the folks went to bed. Freddie was so worked up over his
success as a gardener he could not go to sleep.
At last he dozed off, but presently he awoke with a start. What was
that strange sound ringing in his ears? He sat up and listened.
Yes, somebody must surely be playing the piano. But what funny music!
It seemed to come in funny runs and curious thumps. He called out
sharply, and his mother came at once to his side.
"I heard piano-playing," said Freddie, and Mrs. Bobbsey started, for
she remembered how Flossie had once told her the same thing.
"Oh, Freddie, are you sure?" she asked.
"Sure," repeated the little fellow. "But it wasn't very good playing."
Mrs. Bobbsey called Uncle Daniel, and the latter lit a lamp and went
below into the parlor. Nobody was at the piano or in the room.
"I've made a careful examination," he said, on coming back. "I can see
nothing unusual. Some of the children left a piece of cake on the keys
of the piano, that's all."
"Well, cake can't play," put i
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