The Bobbsey Twins Megapack

by Laura Lee Hope

  “Oh, Bert, what made you fight?” said his twin sister. “I told you not to.”

  “I couldn’t help it, Nan. He told everybody that you were afraid of the ghost.”

  “And what is Mr. Tetlow going to do?”

  “I don’t know. He told me to stay in after school this afternoon, as he wanted to talk with me.”

  “If he expels you, mamma will never get over it.”

  “I know that, Nan. But—but—I couldn’t stand it to have him yelling out, ‘Afraid of a ghost!’”

  After that Nan said but little. But her thoughts were busy, and by the time they were returning to the school her mind was fully made up.

  To all of the school children the principal’s office was a place that usually filled them with awe. Rarely did anybody go there excepting when sent by a teacher because of some infringements of the rules.

  Nan went to school early that afternoon, and as soon as she had left Bert and the two younger twins, she marched bravely to Mr. Tetlow’s office and knocked on the door.

  “Come in,” said the principal, who was at his desk looking over some school reports.

  “If you please, Mr. Tetlow, I came to see you about my brother, Bert Bobbsey,” began Nan.

  Mr. Tetlow looked at her kindly, for he half expected what was coming.

  “What is it, Nan?” he asked.

  “I—I—oh, Mr. Tetlow, won’t you please let Bert off this time? He only did it because Danny said such things about me; said I was afraid of the ghost, and made all the boys call out that we had a ghost at our house. I—I—think, somehow, that I ought to be punished if he is.”

  There, it was out, and Nan felt the better for it. Her deep brown eyes looked squarely into the eyes of the principal.

  In spite of himself Mr. Tetlow was compelled to smile. He knew something of how the Bobbsey twins were devoted to each other.

  “So you think you ought to be punished,” he said slowly.

  “Yes, if Bert is, for you see, he did it mostly for me.”

  “You are a brave sister to come in his behalf, Nan. I shall not punish him very severely.”

  “Oh, thank you for saying that, Mr. Tetlow.”

  “It was very wrong for him to fight—”

  “Yes, I told him that.”

  “But Danny Rugg did wrong to provoke him. I sincerely trust that both boys forgive each other for what was done. Now you can go.”

  With a lighter heart Nan left the office. She felt that Bert would not be expelled. And he was not. Instead, Mr. Tetlow made him stay in an hour after school each day that week and write on his slate the sentence, “Fighting is wrong,” a hundred times. Danny was also kept in and was made to write the sentence just twice as many times. Then Mr. Tetlow made the two boys shake hands and promise to do better in the future.

  The punishment was nothing to what Bert had expected, and he stayed in after school willingly. But Danny was very sulky and plotted all manner of evil things against the Bobbseys.

  “He is a very bad boy,” said Nan. “If I were you, Bert, I’d have nothing more to do with him.”

  “I don’t intend to have anything to do with him,” answered her twin brother. “But, Nan, what do you think he meant when he said he’d make trouble about Mr. Ringley’s broken window? Do you imagine he’ll tell Mr. Ringley I broke it?”

  “How would he dare, when he broke it himself?” burst out Nan.

  “I’m sure I don’t know. But if he did, what do you suppose Mr. Ringley would do?”

  “I’m sure I don’t know,” came helplessly from Nan. “You can‘t prove that Danny did it, can you?”

  “No.”

  “It’s too bad. I wish the window hadn’t been broken.”

  “So do I,” said Bert; and there the talk came to an end, for there seemed nothing more to say.

  CHAPTER XX

  St. Valentine’s Day

  St. Valentine’s Day was now close at hand, and all of the children of the neighborhood were saving their money with which to buy valentines.

  “I know just the ones I am going to get,” said Nan.

  “I want some big red hearts,” put in Freddie. “Just love hearts, I do!”

  “I want the kind you can look into,” came from Flossie. “Don’t you know, the kind that fold up?”

  Two days before St. Valentine’s Day the children gathered around the sitting-room table and began to make valentines. They had paper of various colors and pictures cut from old magazines. They worked very hard, and some of the valentines thus manufactured were as good as many that could be bought.

  “Oh, I saw just the valentine for Freddie,” whispered Nan to Bert. “It had a fireman running to a fire on it.”

  There were a great many mysterious little packages brought into the house on the afternoon before St. Valentine’s Day, and Mr. Bobbsey had to supply quite a few postage stamps.

  “My, my, but the postman will have a lot to do to-morrow,” said Mr. Bobbsey. “If this keeps on he’ll want his wages increased, I am afraid.”

  The fun began early in the morning. On coming down to breakfast each of the children found a valentine under his or her plate. They were all very pretty.

  “Where in the world did they come from?” cried Nan. “Oh, mamma, did you put them there?”

  “No, Nan,” said Mrs. Bobbsey.

  “Then it must have been Dinah!” said Nan, and rushed into the kitchen. “Oh, Dinah, how good of you!”

  “’Spect da is from St. Valentine,” said the cook, smiling broadly.

  “Oh, I know you!” said Nan.

  “It’s just lubby!” cried Freddie, breaking out into his baby talk. “Just lubby, Dinah! Such a big red heart, too!”

  The postman came just before it was time to start for school. He brought six valentines, three for Flossie, two for Freddie and one for Bert.

  “Oh, Nan, where is yours?” cried Bert.

  “I—I guess he forgot me,” said Nan rather soberly.

  “Oh, he has made some mistake,” said Bert and ran after the letter man. But it was of no use—all the mail for the Bobbseys had been delivered.

  “Never mind, he’ll come again this afternoon,” said Mrs. Bobbsey, who saw how keenly Nan was disappointed.

  On her desk in school Nan found two valentines from her schoolmates. One was very pretty, but the other was home-made and represented a girl running away from a figure labeled ghost. Nan put this out of sight as soon as she saw it.

  All that day valentines were being delivered in various ways. Freddie found one in his cap, and Bert one between the leaves of his geography. Flossie found one pinned to her cloak, and Nan received another in a pasteboard box labeled Breakfast Food. This last was made of paper roses and was very pretty.

  The letter man came that afternoon just as they arrived home from school. This time he had three valentines for Nan and several for the others. Some were comical, but the most of them were beautiful and contained very tender verses. There was much guessing as to who had sent each.

  “I have received just as many as I sent out,” said Nan, counting them over.

  “I sent out two more than I received,” said Bert.

  “Never mind, Bert; boys don’t expect so many as girls,” answered Nan.

  “I’d like to know who sent that mean thing that was marked ghost,” went on her twin brother.

  “It must have come from Danny Rugg,” said Bert, and he was right. It had come from Danny, but Nan never let him know that she had received it, so his hoped-for fun over it was spoilt.

  In the evening there was more fun than ever. All of the children went out and dropped valentines on the front piazzas of their friends’ houses. As soon as a valentine was dropped the door bell would be given a sharp ring, and then everybody would run and hide and watch to see who came to the door.

  When the Bobbsey children went home they saw somebody on their own front piazza. It was a boy and he was on his knees, placing something under the door mat.


  “I really believe it is Danny Rugg!” cried Nan.

  “Wait, I’ll go and catch him,” said Bert, and started forward.

  But Danny saw him coming, and leaping over the side rail of the piazza, he ran to the back garden.

  “Stop,” called Bert. “I know you, Danny Rugg!”

  “I ain’t Danny Rugg!” shouted Danny in a rough voice. “I’m somebody else.”

  He continued to run and Bert made after him. At last Danny reached the back fence. There was a gate there, but this was kept locked by Sam, so that tramps might be kept out.

  For the moment Danny did not know what to do. Then he caught hold of the top of the fence and tried to scramble over. But there was a sharp nail there and on this his jacket caught.

  “I’ve got you now!” exclaimed Bert, and made a clutch for him. But there followed the sound of ripping cloth and Danny disappeared into the darkness, wearing a jacket that had a big hole torn in it.

  “Was it really Danny?” questioned Nan, when Bert came back to the front piazza.

  “Yes, and he tore his coat—I heard it rip.”

  “What do you think of that?”

  Nan pointed to an object on the piazza, half under the door mat. There lay a dead rat, and around its neck was a string to which was attached a card reading, “Nan and Bert Bobbsey’s Ghost.”

  “This is certainly awful,” said Bert.

  The noise on the piazza had brought Mrs. Bobbsey to the door. At the sight of the dead rat, which Freddie had picked up by the tail, she gave a slight scream.

  “Oh, Freddie, leave it go!” she said.

  “It won’t hurt you, mamma,” said the little boy. “The real is gone out of it.”

  “But—but—how did it get here?”

  “Danny Rugg brought it,” said Bert. “Look at the tag.”

  He cut the tag off with his pocket-knife and flung the rat into the garbage can. All went into the house, and Mrs. Bobbsey and her husband both read what Danny Rugg had written on the card.

  “This is going too far,” said Mr. Bobbsey. “I must speak to Mr. Rugg about this.” And he did the very next day. As a result, and for having torn his jacket, Danny received the hardest thrashing he had got in a year. This made him more angry than ever against Bert, and also angry at the whole Bobbsey family. But he did not dare to do anything to hurt them at once, for fear of getting caught.

  Winter was now going fast, and before long the signs of spring began to show on every hand.

  Spring made Freddie think of a big kite that he had stored away, in the garret, and one Saturday he and Bert brought the kite forth and fixed the string and the tail.

  “There is a good breeze blowing,” said Bert. “Let us go and fly it on Roscoe’s common.”

  “I want to see you fly the kite,” said Flossie. “Can I go along?”

  “Yes, come on,” said Bert.

  Flossie had been playing with the kitten and hated to leave it. So she went down to the common with Snoop in her arms.

  “Don’t let Snoop run away from you,” said Bert. “He might not find his way back home.”

  The common was a large one with an old disused barn at one end. Freddie and Bert took the kite to one end and Freddie held it up while Bert prepared to let out the string and “run it up,” as he called it.

  Now, as it happened, the eyes of Snoop were fixed on the long tail of the kite, and when it went trailing over the ground Snoop leaped from Flossie’s arms and made a dash for it. The kitten’s claws caught fast in the tail, and in a moment more the kite went up into the air and Snoop with it.

  “Oh, my kitten!” called out Freddie. “Snoop has gone up with the kite!”

  CHAPTER XXI

  The Rescue of Snoop, the Kitten

  It was certainly something that nobody had been expecting, and as the kite went higher and higher, and Snoop with it, both Flossie and Freddie set up a loud cry of fear.

  “Snoop will be killed!” exclaimed the little girl. “Oh, poor dear Snoop!” and she wrung her hands in despair.

  “Let him down!” shrieked Freddie. “Oh, Bert, please let my dear kitten down, won’t you?”

  Bert did not hear, for he was running over the common just as hard as he could, in his endeavor to raise the kite. Up and up it still went, with poor Snoop dangling helplessly at the end of the swaying tail.

  At last Bert ran past the old barn which I have already mentioned. Just as he did this he happened to look up at the kite.

  “Hullo, what’s on the tail?” he yelled. “Is that a cat?”

  “It’s Snoop!” called out Freddie, who was rushing after his big brother. “Oh, Bert, do let him down. If he falls, he’ll be killed.”

  “Well, I never!” ejaculated Bert.

  He stopped running and gradually the kite began to settle close to the top of the barn. Poor Snoop was swinging violently at the end of the ragged tail. The swinging brought the frightened creature closer still to the barn, and all of a sudden Snoop let go of the kite tail and landed on the shingles.

  “Snoop is on the barn!” cried Bert, as the kite settled on the grass a few yards away.

  “Oh, Snoop! Snoop! are you hurt?” cried Freddie, running back a distance, so that he might get a view of the barn top.

  Evidently Snoop was not hurt. But he was still scared, for he stood on the edge of the roof, with his tail standing straight up.

  “Meow! meow! meow!” he said plaintively.

  “He is asking for somebody to take him down,” said Freddie. “Aren’t you, Snoop?”

  “Meow!” answered the black kitten.

  “Oh, dear me, what will you do now?” cried Flossie, as she came chasing up.

  “Perhaps I can get to the roof from the inside,” said Bert, and he darted quickly into the barn.

  There were a rickety pair of stairs leading to the barn loft and these he mounted. In the loft all was dark and full of cobwebs. Here and there were small holes through the roof, through which the water came every time it rained.

  “Snoop! Snoop!” he called, putting his mouth close to one of the holes.

  The kitten turned around in surprise. He hardly knew from whence the voice came, but he evidently knew Bert was calling, for he soon came in that direction.

  As the barn was an old one and not fit to use, Bert felt it would do no harm to knock a shingle or two from the roof. Looking around, he espied a stout stick of wood lying on the floor and with this he began an attack on the shingles and soon had two of them broken away.

  “Come, Snoop!” he called, looking out of the hole. “Come here!”

  But the sound of the blows had frightened the kitten, and Snoop had fled to the slope of the roof on the opposite side of the barn.

  “Where is he?” called the boy, to the twins below.

  “Gone to the other side,” said Freddie. “Don’t like the noise, I guess.”

  “Chase him over here,” returned Bert.

  Both Freddie and Flossie tried to do so. But Snoop would not budge, but stood on the very edge of the roof, as if meditating a spring to the ground.

  “Don’t jump, please don’t jump, Snoop!” pleaded Flossie. “If you jump you’ll surely break a leg, or maybe your back!”

  Whether Snoop understood this or not, it would be hard to say. But he did not jump, only stayed where he was and meowed louder than ever.

  “Can’t you drive him over?” asked Bert, after a long wait.

  “Won’t come,” said Freddie. “Wants to jump down, I guess.”

  Hearing this, Bert ran down to the lower floor and outside.

  “Can’t you get a ladder?” asked Flossie. “Perhaps Mr. Roscoe will lend you one.”

  Mr. Roscoe lived at the other end of the common. He was a very old and very quiet man, and the majority of the girls and boys in Lakeport were afraid of him. He lived all alone and was thought to be a little weird.

  “I—I can see,” said Bert hesitatingly.

  He ran across the common to Mr. Roscoe’s house
and rapped on the door. Nobody came and he rapped again, and then a third time.

  “Who’s there?” asked a voice from within.

  “Please, Mr. Roscoe, is that you?” asked Bert.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, our kitten is on the top of your old barn and can’t get down. Can you lend me a ladder to get him down with?”

  “Kitten on my barn? How did he get there?” and now the old man opened the door slowly and cautiously. He was bent with age and had white hair and a long white beard.

  “He went up with a kite,” said Bert, and explained the case, to which the old man listened with interest.

  “Well! well! well!” exclaimed Mr. Roscoe, in a high piping voice. “Going to take a sail through the air, was he? You’ll have to build him a balloon, eh?”

  “I think he had better stay on the ground after this.”

  “He must be a high-flyer of a cat,” and the old man chuckled over his joke.

  “Will you lend me a ladder?” went on Bert.

  “Certainly, my lad. The ladder is in the cow-shed yonder. But you’ll have to raise it yourself, or get somebody to raise it for you. My back is too old and stiff for such work.”

  “I’ll try it alone first,” answered the boy.

  He soon had the long ladder out and was dragging it across the common. It was very heavy and he wondered who he could get to help him raise it. Just then Danny Rugg came along.

  “What are you doing with old Roscoe’s ladder?” he asked.

  Bert was on the point of telling Danny it was none of his business, but he paused and reflected. He wanted no more quarrels with the big boy.

  “I am going to get our cat down from the barn roof,” he answered.

  “Humph!”

  “Do you want to help me raise the ladder, Danny?”

  “Me? Not much! You can raise your own ladder.”

  “All right, I will, if you don’t want to help me,” said Bert, the blood rushing to his face.

  “So that’s your cat, is it?” cried Danny, looking toward the barn. “I wouldn’t have such a black beast as that! We’ve got a real Maltese at our house.”

  “We like Snoop very much,” answered Bert, and went on with his ladder.

  Danny hunted for a stone, and watching his chance threw it at Snoop. It landed close to the kitten’s side and made Snoop run to the other side of the barn roof.