"Company, is it?" asked Norah, glad to see Dot had stopped crying. "Is
it food for company you're fixing now?"
"Yes, it's their dinner," answered Dot, nodding her head. "Isn't it,
Twaddles? And we're going to set the table. You watch, Norah."
Aunt Polly went down into the cellar and came back, carrying a broad,
smooth board, the top of a packing box. She emptied the bread and suet
crumbs into a paper bag and put the fat tied to the pieces of string in
another. Then Twaddles slipped on his cap and coat, took the two bags
in one hand, tucked the board under his arm, and ran out to the garage.
"Put a chair here in the window, Dot," said Aunt Polly. "There, I'll
pin back the curtains. Now you can see everything they do."
Norah peered curiously over Dot's shoulder, interested, too.
In a few minutes Sam came out of the garage, carrying a hammer and the
little short step-ladder that conveniently turned into a chair if you
knew how to do the trick. He and Twaddles marched over to the
clothespole that Norah seldom used. She preferred to wind her
clothes-line around three, and the fourth pole, to Dot's fancy, always
seemed to feel slighted.
"Now that poor pole won't be lonesome any more," she murmured to
herself.
Sam set up his stepladder, and, taking the board from Twaddles and a
couple of long, strong nails from his pocket, he nailed the board
firmly to the top of the pole.
"See, Norah?" cried Dot.
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