"If you get rusty
spots on your white dress they won't come out!"
"I'll be careful," Flossie promised, calling back over her shoulder,
and, as she tripped along she sang: "We're going to a picnic! We're
going to a picnic!"
"I think I'd better watch her so she won't soil her clothes," said Nan,
getting up from a bench, where she had been sitting beside the boxes and
baskets of lunch. "It would be too bad if she should get her dress dirty
and couldn't go."
"I'm not going to get my clothes dirty, am I, Nan?" asked Freddie, as he
looked at his white blouse.
"I hope not," Nan answered.
Suddenly there was an exclamation from Bert, as Nan started down the
path toward Flossie.
"Ouch!" cried Bert.
"What's the matter?" Nan asked quickly.
"Cut myself!"
"Oh! Oh, dear!" screamed Freddie, who did not like the sight of the red
blood which oozed from the end of his brother's finger.
"Oh, don't get any on my clean blouse, else I can't go to the picnic!"
Bert, who had popped the cut finger into his mouth as soon as he felt
the hurt, now took it out to laugh.
"That's all you care about me, Freddie!" he joked. "I cut my finger,
while making you a little boat, and all you care about is that I mustn't
dirty your white blouse! I'll make you a lot more ships--I guess not!"
"Oh, but I am sorry for you!" Freddie declared. "Only I do so want to go
to the picnic!"
"Yes, I know," Bert went on, seeing that Freddie was taking his talk too
seriously.
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