The Bobbsey Twins Megapack

by Laura Lee Hope

  “Well, I declare!” cried Nan, and burst out laughing. “Oh, Freddie, how will we ever set that on such a little pasteboard table?”

  “Can set it there!” declared the little fellow, and before Nan could stop him the flowerpot went up and the pasteboard table came down and was mashed flat.

  “Hullo! Freddie’s breaking up housekeeping!” cried Bert.

  “Oh, Freddie! do take the flowerpot away!” came from Flossie. “It’s too big to go into the house.”

  Freddie looked perplexed for a moment. “Going to play garden around the house. This is a—a lilac tree!” And he set the flowerpot down close to Bert’s elbow. Bert was now busy trying to put a pasteboard chimney on his house, and did not notice. A moment later Bert’s elbow hit the flowerpot and down it went on the floor, breaking into several pieces and scattering the dirt over the rug.

  “Oh, Bert! what have you done?” cried Nan, in alarm. “Get the broom and the dustpan, before Dinah comes.”

  “It was Freddie’s fault.”

  “Oh, my lilac tree is all gone!” cried the little boy. “And the boiler to my fire engine, too,” he added, referring to the flowerpot, which he had used the day before when playing fireman.

  At that moment, Dinah, the cook, came in from the kitchen.

  “Well, I declar’ to gracious!” she exclaimed. “If yo’ chillun ain’t gone an’ mussed up de floah ag’in!”

  “Bert broke my boiler!” said Freddie, and began to cry.

  “Oh, never mind, Freddie, there are plenty of others in the cellar,” declared Nan. “It was an accident, Dinah,” she added, to the cook.

  “Eberyt’ing in dis house wot happens is an accident,” grumbled the cook, and went off to get the dustpan and broom. As soon as the muss had been cleared away Nan cut out the red table cover for Freddie, which made him forget the loss of the “lilac tree” and the “boiler.”

  “Let us make a row of houses,” suggested Flossie. “Bert’s big house can be at the head of the street.” And this suggestion was carried out. Fortunately, more pasteboard boxes were to be had, and from these they made shade trees and some benches, and Bert cut out a pasteboard horse and cart. To be sure, the horse did not look very lifelike, but they all played it was a horse and that was enough. When the work was complete they called Dinah in to admire it, which she did standing near the doorway with her fat hands resting on her hips.

  “I do declar’, it looks most tremend’us real,” said the cook. “It’s a wonder to me yo’ chillun can make sech t’ings.”

  “We learned it in the kindergarten class at school,” answered Nan.

  “Yes, in the kindergarten,” put in Flossie.

  “But we don’t make fire engines there,” came from Freddie.

  At this Dinah began to laugh, shaking from head to foot.

  “Fire enjuns, am it, Freddie? Reckon yo’ is gwine to be a fireman when yo’ is a man, hey?”

  “Yes, I’m going to be a real fireman,” was the ready answer.

  “An’ what am yo’ gwine to be, Master Bert?”

  “Oh, I’m going to be a soldier,” said Bert.

  “I want to be a soldier, too,” put in Freddie. “A soldier and a fireman.”

  “Oh, dear, I shouldn’t want to be a soldier and kill folks,” said Nan.

  “Girls can’t be soldiers,” answered Freddie. “They have to get married, or be dressmakers, or sten’graphers, or something like that.”

  “You mean stenographers, Bert. I’m going to be a stenographer when I get big.”

  “I don’t want to be any stenogerer,” put in Flossie. “I’m going to keep a candy store, and have all the candy I want, and ice cream—”

  “Me too!” burst in Freddie. “I’m going to have a candy store, an’ be a fireman, an’ a soldier, all together!”

  “Dear! dear!” laughed Dinah. “Jess to heah dat now! It’s wonderful wot yo’ is gwine to be when yo’ is big.”

  At that moment the front door bell rang, and all rushed to the hallway, to greet their mother, who had been downtown, on a shopping tour.

  CHAPTER II

  Rope Jumping, and What Followed

  “Oh, mamma, what have you brought?” Such was the cry from all of the Bobbsey twins, as they gathered around Mrs. Bobbsey in the hallway. She had several small packages in her hands, and one looked very much like a box of candy.

  Mrs. Bobbsey kissed them all before speaking. “Have you been good while I was gone?” she asked.

  “I guess we tried to be good,” answered Bert meekly.

  “Freddie’s boiler got broke, that’s all,” said Flossie. “Dinah swept up the dirt.”

  Before anything more could be said all were in the dining room and Mrs. Bobbsey was called upon to admire the row of houses. Then the box of candy was opened and each received a share.

  “Now you had better go out and play,” said the mother. “Dinah must set the table for dinner. But be sure and put on your thick coats. It is very cold and feels like snow.”

  “Oh, if only it would snow!” said Bert. He was anxious to try a sled he had received the Christmas before.

  It was Saturday, with no school, so all of the boys and girls of the neighborhood were out. Some of the girls were skipping rope, and Nan joined these, while Bert went off to join a crowd of boys in a game of football.

  “Let us play horse,” suggested Freddie to Flossie. They had reins of red leather, with bells, and Freddie was the horse while his twin sister was the driver.

  “I’m a bad horse, I’ll run away if you don’t watch me,” cautioned Freddie, and began to prance around wildly, against the grape arbor and then up against the side fence.

  “Whoa! whoa!” screamed Flossie, jerking on the reins. “Whoa, you naughty horse! If I had a whip, I’d beat you!”

  “If you did that, I’d kick,” answered Freddie, and began to kick real hard into the air. But at last he settled down and ran around the house just as nicely as any horse could. Then he snorted and ran up to the water bucket near the barn and Flossie pretended to give him a drink and some hay, and unharnessed him just as if he was a real steed.

  Nan was counting while another girl named Grace Lavine jumped, Grace was a great jumper and had already passed forty when her mother called to her from the window.

  “Grace, don’t jump so much. You’ll get sick.”

  “Oh, no, I won’t,” returned Grace. She was a headstrong girl and always wanted her own way.

  “But jumping gave you a headache only last week,” continued Mrs. Lavine. “Now, don’t do too much of it,” and then the lady closed the window and went back to her interrupted work.

  “Oh, dear, mamma made me trip,” sighed Grace. “I don’t think that was fair.”

  “But your mamma doesn’t want you to jump any more,” put in another girl, Nellie Parks by name.

  “Oh, she didn’t say that. She said not to jump too much.”

  It was now Nan’s turn to jump and she went up to twenty-seven and then tripped. Nellie followed and reached thirty-five. Then came another girl who jumped to fifty-six.

  “I’m going a hundred this time,” said Grace, as she skipped into place.

  “Oh, Grace, you had better not!” cried Nan.

  “You’re afraid I’ll beat you,” declared Grace.

  “No, I’m not. But your mamma said—”

  “I don’t care what she said. She didn’t forbid my jumping,” cut in the obstinate girl. “Are you going to turn or not?”

  “Yes, I’ll turn,” replied Nan, and at once the jumping started. Soon Grace had reached forty. Then came fifty, and then sixty.

  “I do believe she will reach a hundred after all,” declared Nellie Parks, a little enviously.

  “I will, if you turn steadily,” answered Grace, in a panting voice. Her face was strangely pale.

  “Oh, Grace, hadn’t you better stop?” questioned Nan. She was a little frightened, but, nevertheless, kept on turning the rope.

  “No!” puffe
d Grace. “Go—go on!”

  She had now reached eighty-five. Nellie Parks was counting:

  “Eighty-six, eighty-seven, eighty-eight, eighty-nine, ninety!” she went on. “Ninety-one-, ninety-two—”

  “No—not so—so fast!” panted Grace. “I—I—oh!”

  And then, just as Nellie was counting “Ninety-seven,” she sank down in a heap, with her eyes closed and her face as white as a sheet.

  For a moment the other girls looked on in blank wonder, not knowing what to make of it. Then Nan gave a scream.

  “Oh, girls, she has fainted!”

  “Perhaps she is dead!” burst out Nellie Parks. “And if she is, we killed her, for we turned the rope!”

  “Oh, Nellie, please don’t say that!” said Nan. She could scarcely speak the words.

  “Shall I go and tell Mrs. Lavine?” asked another girl who stood near.

  “No—yes,” answered Nan. She was so bewildered she scarcely knew what to say. “Oh, isn’t it awful!”

  They gathered close around the fallen girl, but nobody dared to touch her. While they were there, and one had gone to tell Mrs. Lavine, a gentleman came up. It was Mr. Bobbsey, coming home from the lumber yard for lunch.

  “What is the trouble?” he asked, and then saw Grace. “What happened to her?”

  “She was—was jumping rope, and couldn’t jump any more,” sobbed Nan. “Oh, papa, she—isn’t de—dead, is she?”

  Mr. Bobbsey was startled and with good reason, for he had heard of more than one little girl dying from too much jumping. He took the limp form up in his arms and hurried to the Lavine house with it. “Run and tell Doctor Briskett,” he called back to Nan.

  The physician mentioned lived but a short block away, and Nan ran as fast as her feet could carry her. The doctor had just come in from making his morning calls and had his hat and overcoat still on.

  “Oh, Doctor Briskett, do come at once!” she sobbed. “Grace Lavine is dead, and we did it, turning the rope for her!”

  “Grace Lavine dead?” repeated the dumfounded doctor.

  “Yes! yes!”

  “Where is she?”

  “Papa just carried her into her house.”

  Without waiting to hear more, Doctor Briskett ran toward the Lavine residence, around which quite a crowd had now collected. In the crowd was Bert.

  “Is Grace really dead?” he asked.

  “I—I—guess so,” answered Nan. “Oh, Bert, it’s dreadful! I was turning the rope and she had reached ninety-seven, when all at once she sank down, and—” Nan could not go on, but leaned on her twin brother’s arm for support.

  “You girls are crazy to jump rope so much,” put in a big boy, Danny Rugg by name. Danny was something of a bully and very few of the girls liked him.

  “It’s no worse than playing football,” said a big girl.

  “Yes, it is, much worse,” retorted Danny. “Rope jumping brings on heart disease. I heard father tell about it.”

  “I hope Grace didn’t get heart disease,” sobbed Nan.

  “You turned the rope,” went on Danny maliciously. “If she dies, they’ll put you in prison, Nan Bobbsey.”

  “They shan’t do it!” cried Bert, coming to his sister’s rescue. “I won’t let them.”

  “Much you can stop ’em, Bert Bobbsey.”

  “Can’t I?”

  “No, you can’t.”

  “I’ll see if I can’t,” answered Bert, and he gave Danny such a look that the latter edged away, thinking he was going to be attacked.

  Doctor Briskett had gone into the house and the crowd hung around impatiently, waiting for news. The excitement increased, and Mrs. Bobbsey came forth, followed by Freddie and Flossie, who had just finished playing horse.

  “Nan, Nan! what can it mean?” said Mrs. Bobbsey.

  “Oh, mamma!” murmured Nan, and sank, limp and helpless, into her mother’s arms.

  Just then Mr. Bobbsey came forth from the Lavine residence. Seeing his wife supporting their daughter, he hurried in that direction.

  “Grace is not dead,” he announced. “She had a fainting spell, that is all. But I think after this she had better leave rope skipping alone.”

  CHAPTER III

  The First Snow Storm

  Nan felt greatly relieved to learn that Grace was not dead.

  “Oh, mamma, I am so glad!” she said, over and over again.

  “I am glad too,” answered Mrs. Bobbsey. “Her mamma has told her several times not to jump so much.”

  “Yes, I heard her.” Nan’s eyes dropped. “I was wicked to turn the rope for her.”

  In the end Nan told her mother the whole story, to which Mrs. Bobbsey listened very gravely.

  “It was certainly wrong, Nan,” she said. “After this I hope my little girl will try to do better.”

  “I shall try,” answered Nan.

  It was long after the dinner hour before the excitement died away. Then it was learned that Grace was resting quietly in an easy chair and the doctor had ordered that she be kept quiet for several days. She was very much frightened and had told her parents that she would never jump rope again.

  The time was the fall of the year, and that Saturday evening there was a feeling of snow in the air stronger than before.

  “Oh, if only it would snow!” came from Bert, several times. “I like winter better than anything.”

  “I don’t,” answered Nan. “Think of the nice flowers we have in the summer.”

  “You can’t have much fun with flowers, Nan.”

  “Yes, you can. And think of the birds—”

  “I like the summer,” piped in Freddie, “cos then we go to the country where the cows and the chickens are!”

  “Yes, and gather the eggs,” put in Flossie, who had gathered eggs many times during the summer just past, while on a visit to their Uncle Daniel Bobbsey’s farm at Meadow Brook. All of the Bobbsey children thought Meadow Brook the finest country place in all the world.

  Bert’s wish for snow was soon gratified. Sunday morning found it snowing steadily, the soft flakes coming down silently and covering the ground to the depth of several inches.

  “Winter has come after all!” cried the boy. “Wish it was Monday instead of Sunday.”

  “The snow is not quite deep enough for sleighing yet,” returned his father.

  Despite the storm, all attended church in the morning, and the four children and Mrs. Bobbsey went to Sunday school in the afternoon. The lady taught a class of little girls and had Flossie as one of her pupils.

  To the children, traveling back and forth through the snow was great sport, and Bert couldn’t resist the temptation to make several snowballs and throw them at the other boys. The other boys threw back in return and Bert’s hat was knocked off.

  “Bert, this will not do on Sunday,” said Mrs. Bobbsey, and there the snowballing came to an end.

  All through that night the snow continued to come down, and on Monday morning it was over a foot deep. The air was crisp and cold and all of the children felt in the best of spirits.

  “Nan and Bert can go to school,” said Mrs. Bobbsey. “But I think Freddie and Flossie had better stay home. Walking would come too hard on them.”

  “I want to go out in the snow!” cried Freddie. “I don’t want to stay indoors all day.”

  “You shall go out later on, in the garden,” replied his mother.

  “They can watch Sam shovel off the snow,” put in Mr. Bobbsey. Sam was the man of all work. He and Dinah, the cook, were married and lived in some pleasant rooms over the stable.

  “Yes, let us watch him!” cried Flossie, and soon she and Freddie were at the window, watching the colored man as he banked up the snow on either side of the garden walk and the sidewalk. Once Sam made a motion as if to throw a shovelful of snow at the window, and this made them dodge back in alarm and then laugh heartily.

  The school was only a few blocks away from the Bobbsey home, but Nan and Bert had all they could do to reach it, for
the wind had made the snow drift, so that in some spots it was very deep.

  “Better look out or we’ll get in over our heads,” cried Bert.

  “Oh, Bert, wouldn’t it be terrible to have such a thing happen!” answered his twin sister. “How would we ever get out?”

  “Ring the alarm and have the street-cleaning men dig us out,” he said merrily. “Do you know, Nan, that I just love the snow. It makes me feel like singing and whistling.” And he broke into a merry whistle.

  “I love it because it looks so white and pure, Bert.”

  They were speedily joined by a number of other boys and girls, all bound for school. Some of the girls were having fun washing each other’s faces and it was not long before Nan had her face washed too. The cold snow on her cheek and ear did not feel very nice, but she took the fun in good part and went to washing like the rest.

  The boys were already snowballing each other, some on one side of the street and some on the other. The snowballs were flying in all directions and Bert was hit on the back and on the shoulder.

  “I’ll pay you back!” he cried, to Charley Mason, who had hit him in the back, and he let fly a snowball which landed directly on Charley’s neck. Some of the snow went down Charley’s back and made him shiver from the cold.

  “I wouldn’t stand that, Charley,” said Danny Rugg, who was close at hand. “I’d pitch into him if I were you.”

  “You pitch into him,” grumbled Charley. “You can throw awfully straight.”

  Danny prided himself on his throwing, which, however, was no better than the throwing of the other lads, and he quickly made two hard snowballs. With these in hand he ran out into the street and waited until Bert’s hands were empty. Then he came up still closer and threw one of the snowballs with all his might. It struck Bert in the back of the head and sent him staggering.

  “Hi! how do you like that?” roared Danny, in high glee. “Have another?” And as Bert stood up and looked around he let drive again, this time hitting Bert directly in the ear. The snowball was so hard it made Bert cry out in pain.

  “For shame, Danny Rugg, to hit Bert so hard as that!” cried Nan.