e
must get up to reach them.

So Trouble got up, and then----

Well, you can just imagine what happened. He forgot that he was holding
in his lap the hat full of dough and as soon as he stood up of course
that slipped from his lap and the table and went splashing all over the
floor.

"Squee-squish-squash!" the hat full of dough dropped.

"Oh!" exclaimed Trouble. "Oh!"

His feet were covered with the white flour and water. Some splashed on
Nora's chair near the table, some splashed on the table legs and more
spread over the tent floor and ran in little streams toward the far
edges. And, in the midst of it, like a little island in the middle of a
lake of dough, was Trouble's new hat. Only now you could hardly tell
which was the hat and which was the dough.

"Trouble's cake all gone!" said the little fellow sadly, and just as he
said that back came Nora. She gave one look inside her nice, clean
tent-kitchen--at least it had been clean when she left it--and then she
cried:

"Oh, Trouble Martin! What _have_ you gone and done?"

"Trouble make a cake but it spill," he said slowly, climbing down from
the table.

"Spill! I should say it did spill!" cried Nora. "Oh, what a sight you
are! And what will your mother say!"

"What is it now, Nora?" asked Mrs. Martin, who heard the noise in the
kitchen.

"Oh, it's Trouble, as you might guess. He's tried to make a cake.
But--such a mess!"

Mrs. Martin looked in. She wanted to laugh and cry at the same time,
but, as that is rather hard to do, she did neither. She just stood and
looked at Trouble. He had picked up his hat, which still had a little of
the paste in it, and this was now dripping down the front of his
rompers.

"Well, it's clean dirt, not like the time he was stuck in the mud of the
brook at home, that's one consolation," said Nora at last. Nora had a
good habit of trying to make the best of everything.

"Yes, it's clean dirt and it will wash off," agreed Mother Martin. "But,
oh, Trouble! You are _such_ a sight! And so is Nora's kitchen."

"Oh, well, I don't mind cleaning up," said the good-natured maid. "Come
on, Trouble, I'll let your mother wash you and then I'll finish the
cake."

"Make a cake for Trouble?" asked Baby William.

"Yes, I guess I'll have to, since you couldn't make one for yourself,"
laughed Nora. "Never mind, you'll be a man when you grow up and you
won't have to mess around a kitchen. Here you are!" and she caught him
up, all dough