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“Come now. He shall have a cake,” said one of the ladies. “Here, take more; take these, and these.”

“Why don’t you eat them?” asked another lady.

“Oh, I’m going to give them to Nils the fisherman.”

“Why is that?”

“Because he lent me his blouse.” Johnny Blossom was exceedingly serious throughout the whole conversation.

“Good-by.” He bowed, his little naked heels put together in most formal manner.

“Good-by, little Johnny Blossom, and thanks for the pleasure you have given us.”

Just what the pleasure was Johnny Blossom could not exactly understand.

“You mustn’t put those wet clothes on,” said one lady.

“Oh, they’re dry,” said Johnny, feeling of the clothes. “They’re as dry as tinder.”

At this they all laughed again. There was a very wet place on the wharf where the clothes had lain.

Fortunately Mother was out when he first got home, and Lisa the maid was very kind in helping him get dry clothes. It was queer, but perhaps his others had not been as dry as tinder, after all.

Johnny deliberated all the afternoon as to whether he should tell his mother what had happened or not. She was so everlastingly anxious about such things. But when she came to his room to say good night, he burst out with it.