He had gone into the pantry, where the flour barrel stood. He did not know that Nan intended to use the prepared flour, which was on the shelf. The door worked on a spring, so it closed behind him, shutting him out from the sight of the others. Taking off the cover of the barrel, Freddie looked inside. The barrel was almost empty, only a few inches of flour remaining at the bottom. There was a flour scoop in the barrel, but he could reach neither this nor the flour itself. "I'll have to stand on the bench," he said to himself and pulled the bench into position. Then he stood on it and bent down into the barrel as far as possible. The others were working in the kitchen when they heard a strange _thump_ and then a spluttering yell. "It's Freddie," said Nan. "Bert, go and see what he is doing in the pantry." Bert ran to the pantry door and pulled it open. A strange sight met his gaze. Out of the top of the barrel stuck Freddie's legs, with a cloud of flour dust rising around them. From the bottom of the barrel came a succession of coughs, sneezes, and yells for help. "Freddie has fallen into the flour barrel!" he cried, and lost no time in catching his brother by the feet and pulling him out. It was hard work and in the midst of it the flour barrel fell over on its side, scattering the flour over the pantry and partly on the kitchen floor. "Oh! oh! oh!" roared Freddie as soon as he could catch his breath. "Oh, my! oh, my!" "Oh, Freddie, why did you go into the barrel?" exclaimed Nan, wiping off her hands and running to him. "Did you ever see such a sight before?" Freddie was digging at the flour in his eyes. He was white from head to feet, and coughing and spluttering. "Wait, I'll get the whisk-broom," said Bert, and ran for it. "Brush off his hair first, and then I'll wipe his face," came from Nan. "Here's the wash-rag," put in little Flossie, and catching it up, wringing wet, she began to wipe off Freddie's face before anybody could stop her. "Flossie! Flossie! You mustn't do that!" said Bert. "Don't you see you are making paste of the flour?" The wet flour speedily became a dough on Freddie's face and neck, and he yelled louder than ever. The wash-rag was put away, and regardless of her own clean clothes, Flossie started in to scrape the dough off, until both Nan and Bert made her stop. "I'll dust him good first," said Bert, and began such a vigorous use of the whisk-broom that everybody began to sneeze. "Oh, Bert, not so hard!" said Nan, and ran to open the back door. "Bring him here." Poor Freddie had a lump of dough in his left ear and was trying in vain to get it out with one hand while rubbing his eyes with the other. Nan brushed his face with care, and even wiped off the end of his tongue, and got the lump out of his ear. In the meantime Flossie started to set the flour barrel up once more. "Don't touch the barrel, Flossie!" called Bert. "You keep away, or you'll be as dirty as Freddie."