The Curlytops and Their Pets | Page 9

little fellow, after he had stood for a
moment with his nose pressed against the pane of glass, making his
"smeller," as he sometimes called it, quite flat. "Hand-organ grinder got
no monkey!"
Trouble was disappointed. He had hoped to see a little monkey
scrambling around to gather pennies in his cap. But this hand-organ
player did not have any. And there was nothing much for Trouble to
see. So the little fellow came back to the table, but not before he had

stopped at the big water-cooler in one corner of the dining room.
Trouble paused to watch a waiter turn the shiny little faucet and draw a
glass of water for a customer.
"Come and get your pie, William," his mother called to him. She very
seldom mentioned him as "Trouble," before strangers. So this time Mrs.
Martin called her little boy by his right name.
"Do you want me to eat your pie?" teased Ted.
"No! I eat my own pie!" Trouble exclaimed, and he climbed up into his
chair, being helped by his father, next to whom he sat.
The meal was almost over, and Daddy Martin was wondering what his
Uncle Toby could want him to take charge of, when Mrs. Martin gave a
sudden start, a sort of shiver, and said:
"Why, my feet are getting wet!"
"Your feet wet!" exclaimed her husband. "Surely it isn't raining in here!
It isn't even raining outside!" he laughed, as he looked from a window.
"But my feet are damp," went on Mrs. Martin. Then she raised the cloth,
which hung down rather low on each side of the table, and glanced at
the floor. "There's a big puddle of water under our table!" she cried.
Then Ted looked over toward the big water-cooler in one corner of the
restaurant.
"Somebody left the faucet open!" cried Teddy. "The ice water is all
running out! No wonder your feet are wet, Mother!"
Mr. Martin hastily left his chair and turned off the faucet, and, as he did
so, he looked at Trouble. Something in the face of that youngster
caused Daddy Martin to ask:
"William, did you do that?"
"I--I dess maybe I turned it on a 'ittle bit!" confessed the mischievous

one.
"A little bit!" cried Janet, as she looked under the table. "Why, there's
almost as much water as there is in our brook at home!"
"Oh, not quite so much," said her mother gently. "Though there is
enough to have wet through the soles of my shoes. I was wondering
why my feet felt so damp and cold. And did Trouble turn on the water?
Oh, Trouble!"
All eyes gazed at the little fellow, and he seemed to think he should
explain what he had done.
"I 'ist turned de handle a teeny bit," he said, "to make a 'ittle water
come out. An' den I fordot 'bout it!"
That was just what he had done. Seeing the waiter draw a glass of water
from the cooler had given Trouble the idea that he soon afterward
carried out. When he saw no monkey with the hand organ, the little
fellow had gone back to his seat and, on the way, opened the faucet so
that the water ran out in a little stream. Soon the drip-pan was full and
then the water began trickling over the floor. No one noticed it until it
had made a little puddle under the table, just at the point where Mrs.
Martin's feet were.
"Oh, Trouble! what will you do next?" sighed the little fellow's mother.
"No harm done at all! None whatever!" said the waiter, coming up to
the table smiling. "That little water on the floor I will wipe up so quick
you will never see it."
"No, it won't hurt the floor much," Mr. Martin said. "And I suppose
your shoes will dry out," he told his wife. "But, all the same, William
should not have done it."
"I won't do it any more," said the little fellow. "I be good now! I sorry!"
He generally was when he had done something like that. However, as

the waiter had said, little real harm was done, and Mrs. Martin's shoes
would dry, for it was a hot, summer day.
The meal was finished and they all took their places in the automobile
again to finish the ride to Uncle Toby's place, about twenty miles
farther on.
Once again Trouble, Ted and Janet sat in the rear seat, while their
father and mother rode in front. And this time Trouble had no red
balloon which he could blow up, making it burst with a noise like a
punctured tire. The children talked among themselves, wondering over
and over again what it could be that Uncle Toby wanted their father to
come