“LOOK AT MY PADDLE WHEEL TURN!”

The Bobbsey Twins at Cloverbank. Frontispiece—(Page [170])

The Bobbsey Twins
at Cloverbank

BY

LAURA LEE HOPE

AUTHOR OF “THE BOBBSEY TWINS SERIES,” “THE
BUNNY BROWN SERIES,” “THE SIX LITTLE
BUNKERS SERIES,” “THE OUTDOOR
GIRLS SERIES,” ETC.

ILLUSTRATED

NEW YORK

GROSSET & DUNLAP

PUBLISHERS

Made in the United States of America

BOOKS BY LAURA LEE HOPE

12mo. Cloth. Illustrated

THE BOBBSEY TWINS SERIES

THE BOBBSEY TWINS
THE BOBBSEY TWINS IN THE COUNTRY
THE BOBBSEY TWINS AT THE SEASHORE
THE BOBBSEY TWINS AT SCHOOL
THE BOBBSEY TWINS AT SNOW LODGE
THE BOBBSEY TWINS ON A HOUSEBOAT
THE BOBBSEY TWINS AT MEADOW BROOK
THE BOBBSEY TWINS AT HOME
THE BOBBSEY TWINS IN A GREAT CITY
THE BOBBSEY TWINS ON BLUEBERRY ISLAND
THE BOBBSEY TWINS ON THE DEEP BLUE SEA
THE BOBBSEY TWINS IN WASHINGTON
THE BOBBSEY TWINS IN THE GREAT WEST
THE BOBBSEY TWINS AT CEDAR CAMP
THE BOBBSEY TWINS AT THE COUNTY FAIR
THE BOBBSEY TWINS CAMPING OUT
THE BOBBSEY TWINS AND BABY MAY
THE BOBBSEY TWINS KEEPING HOUSE
THE BOBBSEY TWINS AT CLOVERBANK

THE BUNNY BROWN SERIES

BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE
BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE ON GRANDPA’S FARM
BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE PLAYING CIRCUS
BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE AT AUNT LU’S CITY HOME
BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE AT CAMP REST-A-WHILE
BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE IN THE BIG WOODS
BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE ON AN AUTO TOUR
BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE AND THEIR SHETLAND PONY
BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE GIVING A SHOW
BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE AT CHRISTMAS TREE COVE
BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE IN THE SUNNY SOUTH
BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE KEEPING STORE
BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE AND THEIR TRICK DOG
BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE AT A SUGAR CAMP
BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE ON THE ROLLING OCEAN

THE SIX LITTLE BUNKERS SERIES

MAKE BELIEVE STORIES

THE OUTDOOR GIRLS SERIES

GROSSET & DUNLAP

Publishers New York

Copyright, 1926, by
Grosset & Dunlap
The Bobbsey Twins at Cloverbank

CONTENTS

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 game dem 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. “Fust comes 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 Bobbsey trying 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 as large 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 cellar door 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 and I 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 secretly hidden, 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,” went on 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.

CHAPTER II

QUEER NOISES

“What is going on down there, my dears?” called Mrs. Bobbsey from the top of the stairs. Down in the hall below she could see, gathered about the mysterious box, the four twins. She had heard the bell ring, and at first thought it was her husband, coming home early on account of the birthday celebration.

But when she heard the strange tones of the expressman she realized that something else had happened, and she was curious to know what it was about.

“It’s a big box for Daddy,” explained Bert.

“We don’t know where it’s from,” went on Nan.

“And the ’spress man didn’t know what was in it,” added Flossie.

“But I guess it’s for Daddy’s birthday,” exclaimed Freddie. “And I got——”

He stopped just in time. He had been about to speak of the “’riginal” present he himself had hidden down cellar.

“Well, if it’s for Daddy we must let it alone until he comes home,” said Mrs. Bobbsey. “Come now and get ready for supper. It will not be long before Daddy arrives, and he will open the box.”

“I wonder what’s in it,” murmured Bert as he moved away, with a backward look at the mysterious package.

“And I wonder where it’s from,” said Nan, who was as curious as her brother.

But they would not think of trying to open it, or of trying to pry off one corner to look inside. Indeed, this would have been hard to do, since the box was strongly made.

Flossie and Freddie were as eager as their older brother and sister to know about the box. But perhaps they were thinking so much of their own presents that they did not say much about the package the expressman had delivered.

While the four are getting ready for the evening meal I will beg just a few moments of the time of my new readers to introduce them to the Bobbsey twins. There were four of the twins, as you have learned by this time. Bert and Nan, who had dark hair and eyes, were the older pair, and Flossie and Freddie, whose eyes were blue and whose hair was golden, came next. Their father was Richard Bobbsey, who owned a large lumberyard in the eastern city of Lakeport on Lake Metoka.

“The Bobbsey Twins” is the name of the first book which tells about these children and what happened to them and their friends. After that Bert and his brother and sisters had many adventures in the country, at the seashore, and at school.

From Snow Lodge the twins went on a voyage in a houseboat and then to Meadow Brook. Happenings at home, in a great city, on Blueberry Island and, later, on the deep, blue sea, kept the boys and girls busy for several vacations, and then they went to Washington, where some strange happenings occurred. But no more strange, perhaps, than in the great West or at Cedar Camp.

The county fair, where Mr. Bobbsey took his children, was a most interesting event, and when they went camping out they had great fun.

But the finding of Baby May was, perhaps, the most mysterious thing that ever happened to the Bobbseys. They found a little baby on their doorstep after a storm, and kept the infant, calling her Baby May Washington Bobbsey, because a queer woman, who had been seen at the railroad station with the baby’s basket, had murmured a name something like “Washington.”

But this proved to be a mistake, since the baby’s right name was Jenny Watson. She was the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Henry Watson, and had been left in charge of a Mrs. Martin while Mr. and Mrs. Watson made a voyage to South America. Mrs. Martin was Mrs. Watson’s cousin.

Because of an accident, when some dishes fell on her head, Mrs. Martin went crazy and had an idea that she must give Baby Jenny away, which she did, by leaving the infant on the Bobbsey steps.

In due time “Baby May,” the name by which Flossie and Freddie still called the little child, was taken to her mother and father, and Mrs. Martin, who recovered from her crazy spell, and the Watsons became good friends of the Bobbsey family.

Following the excitement over the finding of the baby, the Bobbsey twins had some very strange adventures which you will find set down in the book just before the one you are now reading. That volume is entitled “The Bobbsey Twins Keeping House,” and tells what happened when Mr. and Mrs. Bobbsey had to go away, when Dinah and Sam also departed, and when Mrs. Pry, the housekeeper who had been engaged by Mrs. Bobbsey, was taken ill.

However, everything comes to an end in time, and finally all was straightened out in the Bobbsey house. This took place in the winter, and now it was the beginning of summer, and the eve of Mr. Bobbsey’s birthday.

The mysterious box—at least the twins thought it was mysterious—had arrived, and they were all excited, waiting for their father to come home to open it.

“Isn’t Daddy late to-night?” asked Nan, when she had finished dressing and had gone into her mother’s room.

“No, not later than usual,” answered Mrs. Bobbsey, with a smile as she glanced at the clock on her bureau.

“Then time is going awfully slow!” commented Bert, looking in from the hall. “I wish Daddy would hurry! I want to see him open his birthday box.”

“Don’t be too sure that is a box for Daddy’s birthday,” remarked Mrs. Bobbsey. “It may be something about business.”

“If it was business they would send it to him at his office,” came from Nan.

“Besides,” added Bert, “the expressman said they got a letter asking ’em to deliver the box before supper this evening, and everybody knows we always give Daddy his presents at supper on the night before his birthday.”

“So we do,” agreed Mrs. Bobbsey. “But not every one knows that, Bert. However, if you children have any presents for your father perhaps you had better be getting them ready. I suppose you are going to give him something, aren’t you?” she asked, with a smile.

Instead of answering, the four twins looked one at the other. Each one was trying to keep a secret, but it was not easy. But before they could reply there was heard from the hall below the noise of a door opening.

“There’s Daddy now!” cried Bert.

“Wait for me!” begged Flossie, as she saw the others make a dash out of the room.

“Let me go first!” begged Freddie, and he was so anxious to get ahead of Bert that he stooped down and crawled between the legs of his brother, just as Bert was in the doorway of his mother’s room.

So eager was Freddie, and such a shove did he give himself to crawl through Bert’s legs that, before he knew what was happening, the fat little lad had slipped, rolled to the top of the stairs, and then he rolled all the way down, bumping from step to step.

But, as it happened, Mr. Bobbsey reached the bottom of the flight of stairs in time to catch Freddie before the little fellow reached the last step.

“Well, well, what’s all this?” cried Mr. Bobbsey, holding Freddie in his arms. “Is my little fireman trying to make a rescue?” Mr. Bobbsey often spoke of Freddie as a “fireman,” since the little fellow was so fond of playing that game. He had a toy fire engine that spouted real water, too. And Flossie’s pet name was “little fat fairy.”

“Is he hurt?” asked Mrs. Bobbsey, coming down the stairs.

“No—I’m all right!” protested Freddie. “I—now—I just slipped—that’s all. I was in a hurry.”

“I should say you were!” laughed his father. “But you are so fat and the stairs are so thickly carpeted, that you aren’t hurt a bit!”

Freddie was set upon his feet, and, with the others, made a circle about Mr. Bobbsey and the mysterious box. Then, for the first time, the lumber merchant appeared aware of the bulky package in the lower hall.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Something for you, it seems,” answered his wife.

“It’s for your birthday!” cried Nan.

“It came by express!” added Bert.

“And we’d like to see what’s in it,” remarked Flossie.

“Don’t go ’way now,” begged Freddie. “’Cause there’s other things for you—I mean for your birthday—I guess they are,” he added, not wanting to appear too sure. “But open this box first.”

“All right,” agreed Mr. Bobbsey. “It’s a surprise to me, I’ll say that. I don’t even know where it’s from.”

“Maybe it tells on the other side,” suggested Bert, who had brought a hammer and a screw driver for his father to use in opening the box.

“Perhaps,” was the answer. “We’ll take a look.”

As he turned the box on its other side to discover whence it had come, a strange sound was heard issuing from inside.

“Oh!” cried Flossie. “It sounds like a little baby!”

“Nonsense!” laughed her mother. “There would be no baby in such a box!”

Mr. Bobbsey now had the box turned on the other side, and there appeared a card which read:

“From Mr. and Mrs. Henry Watson of Cloverbank!”

“Oh, Mr. Watson remembered your birthday! How nice!” exclaimed Mrs. Bobbsey. “I didn’t think he knew it.”

“Nor did I,” said Mr. Bobbsey, as he got ready to pry off the box cover.

“Watson! Watson!” murmured Bert, thinking hard. “Oh, yes!” he cried. “That’s the name of the father and mother of Baby May, whom we found on our doorstep. That box came from Baby May!”

“Yes, or from her parents,” said Mr. Bobbsey.

As he moved the box, in order to get a better chance to pry off the cover, again there came from inside it a strange wailing cry.

“Oh, Daddy! Open it—quick!” cried Freddie. “Baby May must be inside that box. Her father and mother sent her back to you for a birthday present! Open it—quick—and take Baby May out!”

“Nonsense!” exclaimed Mrs. Bobbsey. “Nobody would put a baby in a box like that and send it by express!”

The queer noises sounded again, and, really, they seemed to be such cries as a baby might make.

“Open the box! Open the box!” cried Nan, much excited, and Mr. Bobbsey hurriedly began using the hammer and screw driver while the twins and their mother leaned eagerly forward.

CHAPTER III

AN INVITATION

Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Bobbsey thought for a moment that “Baby May,” as they still called her, was in the box. Still there was certainly something very queer about the noises that came from the express package.

“It sure is a baby,” murmured Flossie.

“It’s a queer baby then,” declared Nan. “I can see a lot of green and red and yellow things, and no baby is that color!”

For by this time her father had removed some of the boards from the box and a view could be had inside. And, as Nan had said, there was a glimpse of something red, green, and yellow.

“Maybe Baby May—I mean Baby Jenny—has paint on,” suggested Flossie.

“Ho! Ho!” laughed Freddie. “Who ever heard of painting a baby?”

“My doll has paint on, and she’s a baby,” retorted Flossie. Then the little girl thought of the present she had bought for her father—the folding go-cart hidden in the closet under the stairs, and she cried: “Oh, do please hurry, Daddy! Open your present and then maybe you’ll get some other presents!”

“Oh, I hardly think so,” replied Mr. Bobbsey, still working away with the hammer and the screw driver. “I guess this is the only present I’ll get this birthday. It was very kind of Mr. Watson to remember me!”

Though he said this, Mr. Bobbsey did not really mean that, for well he knew each of the twins, as well as his wife, would give him something. They had every year since the two older twins were big enough to know about birthdays.

But Flossie and Freddie, thinking their father really meant what he said, burst out eagerly to deny his fear that he was to be forgotten.

“Oh, no, Daddy!” cried Flossie. “You’re going to get another present—a lovely one!”

“Yes, and another one too, besides that!” added Freddie.

“You don’t mean it!” cried Mr. Bobbsey, pretending to be very much surprised. “Well! Well! I must hurry and finish opening this box, for, after I see what is in it, I’ll get the other presents—maybe.”

“You sure will!” chuckled Bert.

“Listen!” whispered Nan.

Again came a low, wailing cry from within the box.

“There!” suddenly cried Mr. Bobbsey. He pried off nearly all of the top boards and out from the midst of a lot of vegetables jumped—Snoop! Snoop, the big, black Bobbsey cat!

“Oh!” cried Freddie. “Look at him!”

“Snoop!” shouted Bert.

“How in the world did he get in there?” asked Nan.

But Snoop waved his tail, rubbed up against the legs of fat little Flossie, and gave voice to a miaowing cry.

“There!” exclaimed Mrs. Bobbsey. “It was Snoop who was crying like a baby. He was shut up inside that box, and his voice sounded muffled, as if he were down in the cellar. That’s what made it seem to be a baby’s cry.”

“But how did Snoop get in the box?” asked Freddie.

Mr. Bobbsey turned the express package over on its side and then it was seen how Snoop had gotten inside. One of the bottom boards was broken. There was a hole large enough for the black cat to have crawled inside, and as Snoop was very like his name, always snooping around in strange places, that is what he had done. He had crawled in through the hole and had curled up among a lot of vegetables. Then, when the box was turned over, so Mr. Bobbsey could read the card, telling whence it had come, Snoop could not get out. So he had cried mournfully to be released.

“Oh, it’s a lot of vegetables and berries in the box!” said Nan, as she took a look, after Snoop had jumped out and the mystery of the “baby’s” cries had been solved.

“Yes, it’s quite a load of farm and garden produce,” said Mr. Bobbsey. “Mr. Watson must have a large place at Cloverbank. Here’s a note,” and he picked up one that was stuck in a bunch of beets.

The note was from Mr. Watson. It contained only a few short lines, saying:

“Dear Mr. Bobbsey: My wife and I remembered that this was your birthday, so we send you some of our early vegetables and some berries. You were so kind to Baby Jenny that we shall never forget you. You will hear from me again very soon.”

“How kind of him!” murmured Mrs. Bobbsey.

“Did Baby May—I mean Baby Jenny—write a letter?” asked Freddie.

“No, she is hardly old enough,” answered his mother, while Mr. Bobbsey began lifting out the bunches of early vegetables and the boxes of berries. It was the green, red, and yellow color of the fruits and vegetables which the children had glimpsed through cracks in the box. So quickly had the farm and garden produce come by express that they were very fresh and good.

“I guess we’ll not have any of these for supper,” announced Mr. Bobbsey, as he reached down and rubbed Snoop, who was now purring happily since he was out of the prison into which he had crawled. “And, speaking of supper, I am ready to eat mine.”

“We’re going to have pie,” declared Bert. “I saw Dinah baking them, and I guess she made some extra ones on account of your birthday, Daddy.”

“Did she? That’s nice!” laughed Mr. Bobbsey. “You must have been in the kitchen to find out about the pies, Bert.”

“Yes, sir, I was,” admitted Bert, with a quick look at Nan. But she seemed to be thinking of something else.

“Come now, children, we will eat and then we’ll unpack the vegetables from Cloverbank,” suggested Mrs. Bobbsey. “What a pretty name for a place,” she went on. “It must be a delightful country up there.”

“I wish we could go to the country again,” said Bert. “School will soon be over and we’ll have a long vacation.”

“Where are we going this vacation?” asked Nan.

“We haven’t decided yet,” answered her mother. “But come—we shall be late for supper unless we hurry, and that makes more work for Dinah!”

She led the way to the dining room, with Flossie and Freddie whispering on the way:

“When can we give Daddy his presents?”

“You might as well get them now, I suppose,” said Mrs. Bobbsey, with a laugh as she glanced at her husband. “There will be no peace at the table until you do, and you won’t eat anything until this excitement is over. Get the presents now!”

“Whoopee!” yelled Bert, who was almost as excited as were the smaller twins.

“Mine’s in the cellar!” cried Freddie, as he made a dash for the kitchen.

“Be careful going down the stairs!” warned his mother.

“Mine’s upstairs,” remarked Nan.

“So’s mine!” added Bert, with a quick look at her. “I didn’t see you up there hiding it, though,” he went on.

“And I didn’t see you,” laughed Nan. “I came in through the kitchen.”

“So’d I!” cried Bert, with a chuckle.

“I did, too!” added Flossie. “And my present’s under the front stairs in the little dark closet. Don’t you look until I get it for you, Daddy!” she warned. “Don’t peek, will you?”

“All right, I won’t!” promised Mr. Bobbsey. “See, my eyes are tight shut—you’ll have to lead me to the table, Mother,” he went on to his wife.

“Oh, isn’t this fun!” laughed Flossie, as the children scattered to get the birthday presents from the various hiding places.

“Well, whut’s gwine on now?” demanded Dinah, as she saw Freddie dash through the kitchen and down the cellar stairs.

“It’s time for the secret!” he breathlessly explained.

“Well, Ah suah am glad ob dat!” chuckled the colored cook. “Mah nice supper am ’bout ruined wif all dis delay!”

They were soon all gathered about the table, Mr. Bobbsey still with his eyes tightly shut. One after the other, the twins walked up and put their presents in front of him. Not until all four packages were there did Mrs. Bobbsey call:

“Ready! Open your eyes!”

When he opened them and saw the packages, Mr. Bobbsey pretended that he had suddenly awakened, and was still dreaming. He rubbed his eyes and said:

“There must be some mistake!”

“What mistake, Daddy?” asked Nan.

“Why, all these presents!” was the answer. “I have only one birthday, but there are four presents! I’d better send three of them back!”

“No! No!”

“They’re all for you!”

“Every one!”

“They’re all yours—all four!”

Thus cried the Bobbsey twins in joyous excitement. Of course Mr. Bobbsey knew that all the while; but he did love to tease the twins. Then he took up first the big bundle which Freddie had hidden down in the cellar.

“Oh, what lovely flowers!” cried the birthday man. “Oh, how I love flowers!” and he buried his nose in them.

“I picked ’em—every one!” cried Freddie, in great delight. “And there’s something else in there, too, Daddy! Down in the bottom! Look!”

“Well, I declare. A baseball! Of all things!” exclaimed Mr. Bobbsey as he took it out. “That’s just what I’ve been wanting—a baseball so I could have a little game at noon with the men in the lumberyard. It’s a fine ball, too—and such a bouncer!” he went on, as he threw it to the floor and caught it as it rebounded.

“And if you don’t want it—or if you get tired of it,” said Freddie, “why, you can give it to me. Sammie Shull and I are going to get up a baseball nine.”

“All right,” his father said. “If I find it’s too small for me and the men—and it looks as if it might be too small—you may take it, Freddie.”

“Yes—that’s what I thought,” said the lad, while his father and mother smiled at each other.

“That’s my present to you,” said Flossie, pointing to the square box she had hidden in the stair closet. “I hope you’ll like it.”

Mr. Bobbsey took out the folding doll go-cart. First there was a puzzled look on his face. Then he smiled as he cried:

“Oh, I see, this is a new kind of necktie!”

“No, it isn’t!” protested Flossie.

“Then it must be an umbrella to keep off the rain,” went on the lumber merchant, pretending to be puzzled about the folding go-cart, though, all the while, he knew what it was.

“Oh, no, Daddy! ’Tisn’t an umbrella!” cried Flossie. “It’s a little carriage for my doll. You unfold it and bend out the wheels. Then, when you take me for a walk and I get tired of carrying my doll, you can put it in the go-cart and wheel her for me. I think that’s a nice present for you—isn’t it, Daddy?”

“It’s the most beautiful present I ever got!” declared her father, with a laugh, “and I’m going to give you a kiss for it. I must also kiss Freddie for the baseball. That was a fine present, too! That is, unless my little fireman is too big to be kissed?” and Mr. Bobbsey looked at Freddie a moment after he had kissed Flossie.

“I don’t mind being kissed—on your birthday,” said the little fellow. “But not much at other times. I’m getting too big for it.”

“So you are,” said Mr. Bobbsey, with a laugh. “Well, bring in your doll, Flossie, and let’s see how she fits my new folding birthday go-cart,” and again Mr. and Mrs. Bobbsey laughed at each other.

The doll had been put in and wheeled about. But there were still two packages to be opened—those which Nan and Bert had put beside their father’s plate.

These gifts were not quite as “’riginal” as those Flossie and Freddie had bought, for the older twins had asked their mother what she thought their father would like. With the help of her mother Nan had bought Mr. Bobbsey a bathrobe which, he said, was just what he had long needed. Bert’s present was a golf sweater which, his father stated, was just the color he had long been hoping to get.

“This is the best birthday I ever remember!” declared Mr. Bobbsey, when his wife had presented him with a new wallet in which to carry his money, cards, and papers. “What with the flowers, the baseball, the go-cart, the robe, the sweater, the wallet, and the box of fruits and vegetables from Cloverbank—why, I never got so many things before!”

It was a jolly birthday celebration, and the children talked of little else while the meal was going on. Presently Nan turned the conversation another way by asking:

“What do you suppose Mr. Watson meant by saying you would soon hear from him again, Daddy?”

“I don’t know, my dear, unless he meant that he would write now and again to let us hear how the baby was getting along,” was the answer. “You know, we grew very fond of Baby May, as we called her, and your mother and I did not want to give her up, though of course we had to. I think Mr. Watson must mean he is going to write again to tell us about Baby Jenny, as we must learn to call her.”

IT WAS A JOLLY BIRTHDAY CELEBRATION.

The Bobbsey Twins at Cloverbank. Page [36]

But a letter came from Cloverbank before any of the Bobbseys thought it possible to receive one. Just as supper was finished there came a ring at the doorbell, and Flossie cried:

“Oh, maybe it’s more presents for Daddy’s birthday.”

Instead of an expressman, however, it proved to be a boy from the post-office with a special delivery letter. These letters come at any time of the day or night, after the regular mail is delivered.

“A special delivery!” murmured Mrs. Bobbsey, as she saw the blue stamp with the picture on it of a messenger boy running. “I wonder who it is from?”

“It’s easy to tell that even without opening it,” said Mr. Bobbsey. “It’s from Henry Watson of Cloverbank. His name is on the envelope.”

“Oh, he said you’d hear from him again soon, and you have!” cried Nan. “Do open it, Daddy, and see what it’s about.”

When Mr. Bobbsey read the letter a smile came to his face.

“Well, this seems to settle the summer vacation problem for us, Mother!” he exclaimed. “This is an invitation from Mr. and Mrs. Watson and also from Baby May—I mean Baby Jenny—to come and spend the summer with them at Cloverbank. Among other things, Mr. Watson writes:

“‘Can’t you and the children visit us? Baby “May” would surely love to see the Bobbsey twins.’”