THE BOBBSEY TWINS AT CLOVERBANK
THE BOBBSEY TWINS AT CLOVERBANK
CHAPTER I
THE MYSTERIOUS BOX
Tap! Tap! Tap!
Some one was knocking on the door of the kitchen where Dinah Johnson, the fat, jolly, colored cook of the Bobbsey family was just taking a pie from the oven. Holding the pie carefully, Dinah turned her head toward the door.
Tap! Tap! Tap! sounded again.
“Good lan’ ob massy! Wonder who dat am?” murmured Dinah. “Maybe it am one ob dem woodpecker birds whut fly ’round de garden lookin’ fo’ bugs in de trees. But if Mistah Woodpecker t’inks he’s gwine t’ look at dis pie, he’s mighty much mistook—dat’s all I got to say!”
Dinah waddled over to the table, carrying the pie carefully, and then, as the knocking again sounded on the kitchen door, she walked toward it and opened it.
“Git away from heah, Mistah Woodpecker!” she exclaimed, before she really saw who it was. Then she started back in surprise, for Bert Bobbsey, carrying in his hands something wrapped in paper, slid quickly through the half-opened door and exclaimed:
“Don’t tell Nan or Flossie or Freddie that I came in this way, Dinah! I want to get upstairs—quick!”
“Mah goodness! Bress yo’ heart, honey! Has anyt’ing done happened dat yo’ got to slip in in dis mysteriousness way an’ hide upstairs? Whut’s de mattah?” demanded the colored cook.
“Hush, please, Dinah! It’s all right. I just don’t want any of the others to know I came in this way!” explained Bert, with a smile, which told the cook that there was nothing very much wrong. “I’m going upstairs to hide this,” Bert went on. “If Flossie comes in don’t tell her you saw me.”
“Oh—all right,” remarked Dinah, with a chuckle. “Ah done guess it’s some gamedem Bobbsey twins is playin’,” she went on to herself. “Bress der hearts! Nices’ chilluns dat eber was! Dat’s it! Some game Bert is playin’ like hide de organ or find de auttymobile, Ah reckon! Ho! Ho!”
She laughed softly to herself as she waddled back to the oven to take out another pie, while Bert crept up the back stairs on tiptoe, still carrying the paper package of which he took great care.
“Dat’s what it must be—some game!” murmured Dinah, and then, as she set the second pie on the table, again came the sound of knocking at the door.
“Go on away, Freddie!” went on Dinah. “Ah can’t bodder wif yo’ any more. Once is enough to come in mah kitchen when Ah’s busy wif pies! Run along, Freddie!”
“Hush, Dinah, please!” came a voice from the outer side of the door. “This isn’t Freddie. I’m Nan! Please open the door and let me in. I can’t turn the knob—my hands are full!”
“Well, mah good lan’ ob massy!” exclaimed the colored cook, as she gave a hasty look at the oven to make sure the third pie, still in the stove, would not burn. “Fustcomes Bert, an’ his hands is full; den comes Nan, an’ her hands is full. Whut’s gwine on in dish yeah house to-day Ah wonders?”
But remembering that Bert had begged her not to mention how he had entered, Dinah said nothing to Nan of this when she opened the door and saw Bert’s twin sister standing there, holding in her arms a brown paper parcel, larger than the one Bert had carried up the back stairs.
“Thank you, Dinah, for letting me in,” whispered Nan, with a smile. “This bundle is so big I couldn’t reach the knob. Please don’t tell Flossie or Freddie or Bert that I came in this way, will you?”
“No’m—Ah won’t say one word!” promised Dinah, as she watched Nan tiptoe quietly up the back stairs.
Chuckling to herself, Dinah went back to the oven to get out the third pie, meanwhile having shut the outer kitchen door, for she did not want any draft of air blowing on her fresh pastry.
So she had closed the door and had set the third pie on the table when she was so startled that she gave a jump for, looking at one of the kitchen windows, she saw Freddie Bobbseytrying in vain to raise it. The window was partly open, but not wide enough for the little fellow to slip in.
“Dinah! Dinah! Open the window and let me in!” he begged. “And please hurry! It’s very ’portant!”
“Um! It important, am it?” asked Dinah. “Den why doesn’t yo’ come in de do’ laik de others done?” She meant Bert and Nan, but no sooner had she spoken than she remembered that the two older Bobbsey twins had each begged her to keep quiet about them. Luckily, however, Freddie did not pay much attention to the last part of Dinah’s remarks.
“I don’t want to come in the door ’cause Flossie will see me!” he explained, trying to wiggle under the partly raised sash. “She’s out in the yard, watching, and I don’t want her to see me. So open the window and let me in, please, Dinah!”
“Aw right, honey lamb, I will,” promised the cook. “Dis suah mus’ be some funny game de Bobbsey twins am playin’,” she thought to herself. “An’ Freddie’s got a bundle, too! Dish suah am queer!”
Indeed, Freddie had a bundle. It was wrapped in a white cloth and was almost aslarge as himself, though it was not very heavy, for he lifted it easily into the window ahead of him, when Dinah had raised the sash higher.
“There! I guess Flossie didn’t see me,” murmured the little boy.
Instead of going up the back stairs as his older brother and sister had done, Freddie made for the cellarway which opened out of the kitchen.
“Where you going?” demanded Dinah, as she saw what the small lad was about to do.
“Hush!” he begged, holding a finger over his lips. “This is a secret! I want to hide it down the cellar. He’ll never think of looking for it down there!”
“What is it?” asked the colored woman. “Who won’t look down there for it? What is it, Freddie?”
But Freddie did not answer. He was going softly down the cellar stairs, carrying the package in cloth, almost as big as himself.
“If dis wasn’t summer Ah suah would t’ink it was Christmus, wif everybody hidin’ presents,” Dinah murmured. “But Christmus don’t come in June! It mus’ be some game!”
She was just reaching for the tin can of powdered sugar which she intended sprinkling on the pies when a noise behind her caused her to turn quickly. She saw, tiptoeing out of the pantry, Flossie Bobbsey, Freddie’s blue-eyed twin sister. Flossie, also, carried a good-sized package.
“Hello, Dinah!” murmured Flossie. “Those pies smell good!” and she hungrily sniffed the air. “But don’t tell anybody you saw me!” she went on, with a smile, and she crossed the kitchen in the direction of a door that led to the back hall.
“Where’d you come from?” demanded Dinah. “I was in dat pantry a little bit ago an’ you wasn’t in it, Flossie!”
“I know!” giggled the little girl. “I got up on a box and crawled in the window. It was open. I didn’t want Freddie to see me. He was out in the yard and I slipped away from him. I’m going to hide this in the little closet under the stairs,” she went on, holding up the box she carried.
“What is it?” asked Dinah.
“It’s a secret!” answered Flossie, with a smile. “Bert and Nan aren’t around, are they?”
“No, they aren’t ’round now,” replied the cook.
“I’m glad of that,” said Flossie, with a sigh of relief as she tossed her tangle of golden curls back out of her eyes. “I don’t want any of them to know until we are at the table this evening.”
“What’s it all about?” asked Dinah, more from habit by this time than because she expected to be told. “Is it a game, honey lamb?”
“Sort of!” laughed Flossie. “But it’s more of a secret!”
“Um! Yeah! I could guess dat part ob it!” chuckled Dinah. “It suah am a secret!”
She watched Flossie slip quietly out into the back hall and heard the little girl opening the small closet under the stairs, where all sorts of odds and ends were kept.
With a silent laugh, which shook her big, fat body as a bowl of jelly is shaken when it is placed on the table, the colored cook went on with her kitchen work. Soon she heard the voice of Bert as he went down the front stairs and out of the front door.
“Ah guess Nan didn’t ketch him,” murmured Dinah.
A little later, down the back stairway, floated the voice of Nan, speaking to her mother in the latter’s room.
“An’ Ah reckon Bert didn’t see Nan,” went on Dinah. “So far it’s all right. Dat is ef dey don’t ketch Flossie in de back hall.”
But this did not happen, because Flossie remained in the little closet under the stairs for some time. She appeared to be taking great pains to hide the box she was carrying.
However, a little later Flossie came softly back into the kitchen through the door leading to the back hall.
“There! Nobody knows where it is but me!” she declared.
“Dat’s good,” murmured Dinah.
“And maybe I could have a piece of pie,” went on the little girl. “I think you bake the loveliest pies, Dinah! Honest I do!”
“Yes’m, honey lamb, dey is good!” admitted the cook, with pardonable pride in her work. “But Ah cain’t cut a fresh pie fo’ yo!”
“Oh, dear!” sighed Flossie.
There was a noise on the cellar stairs and Dinah wondered if Freddie were coming up.
But nothing like this happened. The cellardoor did not open, and Flossie did not appear to have heard the noise.
“Isn’t there anything you can give me to eat, Dinah?” she asked wistfully. “I’m so hungry!”
“Bress yo’ heart, honey lamb! Ah kin gib yo’ some ’lasses cookies!” replied Dinah.
“Oh, molasses cookies! I just love them!” cried Flossie, and when she had several in her hands she ran out, crying: “Freddie! Freddie! Where are you? I got cookies!”
Freddie did not answer, and the voice of Flossie died away as she ran in search of him.
But pretty soon the kitchen cellar door opened and Freddie’s head was thrust out. Dinah heard the noise of the knob and turned to look at the little fellow.
“Is she gone?” whispered Freddie. “Is Flossie gone?”
“She suah has,” was the reply.
“I’m glad she didn’t see me,” he went on. “I got it hid down behind the coal bin.”
“Good lan’!” exclaimed Dinah. “Whut’s it all about, anyhow?”
“Hush!” begged Freddie in a whisper. “I got Daddy a present for his birthday—it’s to-morrow, you know. I found a basket andI picked it full of flowers. And in the bottom of the basket is a new baseball. I saved up my money and bought it for him. He’ll think there’s only flowers in the basket, but down under them’s the baseball. An’ if Daddy doesn’t want it to play with himself he can give it to me; can’t he, Dinah?”
“Ah reckon he can, honey!” chuckled the colored cook.
“Don’t you think that’s a ’riginal present for Daddy, Dinah?” asked the little fellow. “I wanted to give him something ’riginal!”
“It suah am ’riginal, all right,” admitted Dinah. “An’ here’s some cookies fo’ yo’. Better run out now an’ play!”
“I will,” agreed Freddie. “But don’t tell anybody about my ’riginal present for Daddy, will you?”
“No, Ah won’t,” Dinah promised.
It was a little while after this that Flossie came running back, begging for more cookies.
“Have yo’ done eat all dem up I gib yo’?” asked Dinah.
“I gave some to Mary Blake and some to Sallie Porter,” explained Flossie, naming two of her playmates. “So I didn’t have many myself.”
“Dat’s too bad!” murmured Dinah. “But dere’s plenty mo’ cookies! He’p yo’se’f, honey,” and she brought out the pan.
Flossie looked around the kitchen to make sure none but Dinah could hear her, and then she whispered:
“Dinah, do you know what was in that box I hid in the stair closet? Do you?”
The cook could pretty well guess by this time, but she pretended she did not know and shook her head.
“It’s a present for daddy’s birthday,” went on Flossie. “I’m going to give it to him when we eat supper. Do you know what it is?”
Again Dinah shook her head.
“Well, I’ll tell you, but you mustn’t tell anybody!” whispered Flossie. “It’s a little folding go-cart for a doll. I think Daddy will like that, don’t you? It’s the cutest little go-cart and it all folds up small and goes in a box. But you can unfold it big enough to ride my largest doll. Isn’t that a nice present for Daddy?”
“It suah am!” laughed Dinah.
Though Bert and Nan said nothing to her about the packages they had so secretlyhidden, Dinah guessed that the older twins had also bought presents for their father’s birthday, which occurred on the morrow, but which would be celebrated that evening, as usual.
“Ah wonders if Bert an’ Nan got t’ings laik Freddie an’ Flossie?” chuckled Dinah. “Dose small twins suah am lookin’ out for derse’ves!”
It was later in the afternoon, and the Bobbsey twins were gathering about the house to get washed and dressed for supper, when the doorbell rang.
“I’ll go!” cried Nan, making a dash for the hall.
Bert was also ready to answer the ring, but his twin sister was a little bit ahead of him. And Flossie and Freddie were not far behind Bert, who ran out into the front hall in time to see Nan talking to the driver of an express wagon.
“Does Mr. Richard Bobbsey live here?” asked the expressman.
“Yes, sir,” answered Nan.
“But he isn’t home from the office yet,” added Bert.
“Well, I guess that won’t matter,” wenton the man, with a laugh. “I have a box here for him. The charges are paid so I will leave it, if one of you will sign the receipt for it.”
“I’ll sign,” offered Nan, as she had often heard her mother say.
The box was set down in the front hall. It was of wood, and seemed quite heavy.
“What’s in it?” asked Bert.
“I don’t know,” the expressman answered. “Maybe it has a fortune in gold in it. Anyhow, there’s something that rattles. And a letter came to the office, asking us to deliver the box just before supper this evening. Maybe it has something good to eat in it.”
He drove away with a laugh, while the Bobbsey twins gathered about the mysterious box in the hall—a box that had come to their father on the eve of his birthday.
What was in it?
That is what each of the Bobbsey twins wondered.