The Bobbsey Twins Megapack

by Laura Lee Hope

  “Oh, you keep still, Nan Bobbsey!” retorted Danny. “This is our sport, not yours.”

  “But you shouldn’t have come so close before you threw the snowball.”

  “I know what I’m doing,” growled the big boy, running off.

  The whack in the ear made that member ache, and Bert did not feel near so full of fun when he entered the schoolyard. Several of his friends came up to him in sympathy.

  “Did he hurt you very much, Bert?” asked one.

  “He hurt me enough. It wasn’t fair to come so close, or to make the snowballs so hard.”

  “Let us duck Danny in the snow,” suggested one of the boys.

  This was considered a good plan, but nobody wanted to start in, for, as I have said before, Danny was a good deal of a bully, and could get very rough at times.

  While the boys were talking the matter over, the school bell rang and all had to go to their classrooms. In a little while Bert’s ear stopped aching, but he did not forget how Danny Rugg had treated him.

  “I’ll pay him back when we go home to dinner,” Bert told himself, and laid his plans accordingly.

  As soon as Bert got out of school he hurried into a corner of the yard and made three good, hard snowballs. These he concealed under his overcoat and then waited for Danny to appear.

  The big boy must have known that Bert would try to square matters with him, for as soon as he came out he ran in the direction of one of the main streets of Lakeport, just the opposite direction to that which he usually pursued.

  “You shan’t get away from me!” cried Bert, and ran after him. Soon he threw one snowball and this landed on Danny’s back. Then he threw another and knocked off the bully’s cap.

  “Hi! stop that!” roared Danny, and stooped to pick up the cap. Whiz! came the third snowball and hit Danny on the cheek. He let out a cry of pain.

  “I’ll fix you for that, Bert Bobbsey!” he said, stooping down in the street. “How do you like that?”

  He had picked up a large chunk of ice lying in the gutter, and now he threw it at Bert’s head with all force. Bert dodged, and the ice went sailing past him and hit the show window of a small shoe store, shattering a pane of glass into a hundred pieces.

  CHAPTER IV

  The Broken Window

  Neither Danny nor Bert had expected such an ending to the snowball fight and for the moment neither knew what to do. Then, as the owner of the shoe store came running out, both set off on a run.

  “Stop! stop!” roared the shoe dealer, coming after them. “Stop, I say!”

  But the more he cried stop the harder they ran. Both soon reached the corner, and while Danny went up the side street, Bert went down, so the boys soon became widely separated.

  Reaching the corner, the owner of the store did not know which boy to go after, but made up his mind to follow Bert, who could not run as fast as Danny. So after Bert he came, with such long steps that he was soon close to the lad.

  Bert was greatly scared, for he was afraid that if he was caught he might be arrested. Seeing an alleyway close at hand, he ran into this. At the back was a fence, and with all speed he climbed up and let himself down on the other side. Then he ran around a corner of a barn, through another alleyway, and into a street leading home.

  The shoe dealer might have followed, but he suddenly remembered that he had left the store unprotected and that somebody might come in and run off with his stock and his money. So he went back in a hurry; and the chase came to an end.

  When Bert got home he was all out of breath, and his legs trembled so he could scarcely stand. Nan had just arrived and the family were preparing to sit down to lunch.

  “Why, Bert, why do you run so hard?” protested his mother. “You must not do it. If you breathe in so much cold air, you may take cold.”

  “Oh, I—I’m all right,” he panted, and started to drop into his seat, but Mrs. Bobbsey made him go up to the bathroom and wash up and comb his hair.

  Poor Bert was in a fever of anxiety all through the meal. Every instant he expected to hear the front door bell ring, and find there a policeman to take him to the station house. He could scarcely eat a mouthful.

  “What’s the matter? Do you feel sick?” asked the father.

  “No, I’m not sick,” he answered.

  “You play altogether too hard. Take it easy. The snow will last a long time,” went on Mr. Bobbsey.

  After lunch Bert did not dare to go back to school. But he could think of no excuse for staying home and at last set off in company with Nan. He looked around for Danny, but the big lad did not show himself.

  “What’s the matter with you, Bert?” questioned his twin sister, as they trudged along.

  “Nothing is the matter, Nan.”

  “But there is. You act so strange.”

  “I—I don’t feel very good.”

  “Then you did run too hard, after all.”

  “It wasn’t that, Nan.” Bert looked around him. “Do you see anything of Danny Rugg?”

  “No.” Nan stopped short. “Bert Bobbsey, did you have a fight with him?”

  “No—that is, not a real fight. I chased him with some snowballs and he threw a big chunk of ice at me.”

  “Did he hit you?”

  “No, he—he—oh, Nan, perhaps I had better tell you. But you must promise not to tell anybody else.”

  “Tell me what?”

  “Will you promise not to tell?”

  “Yes,” said Nan promptly, for she and her twin brother always trusted each other.

  “When Danny threw the ice at me it flew past and broke Mr. Ringley’s window.”

  “What, of the shoe store?”

  “Yes. Mr. Ringley came running out after both of us. I ran one way and Danny ran another. I ran into the alleyway past Jackson’s barn, and got over the fence, and he didn’t come any further.”

  “Does Mr. Ringley think you broke the window?”

  “I guess he does. Anyway, he followed me and not Danny.”

  “But you had nothing to do with it. Oh, Bert, what made you run away at all. Why didn’t you stop and tell the truth?”

  “I—I got scared, that’s why. I was afraid he’d get a policeman.”

  “Danny ought to own up that he did it.”

  “He won’t do it. He’ll put it off on me if he can,—because I chased him in the first place.”

  “Did Mr. Ringley know it was you?”

  “I don’t know. Now, Nan, remember, you promised not to tell.”

  “All right, Bert, I won’t say a word. But—but—what do you think Mr. Ringley will do?”

  “I don’t know.”

  When they reached the school Danny Rugg was nowhere to be seen. The boys continued to have fun snowballing, but Bert had no heart for play and went to his classroom immediately. But he could not put his mind on his lessons and missed both in geography and arithmetic.

  “Bert, you are not paying attention,” said the teacher severely. “You just said the capital of Pennsylvania was Albany. You must know better than that.”

  “Philadelphia,” corrected Bert.

  “After this pay more attention.”

  Danny Rugg did not come to school, nor did he show himself until an hour after school was out. Bert had gone home and brought forth his sled, and he and Nan were giving Freddie and Flossie a ride around the block when Danny hailed Bert.

  “Come here, I want to talk to you,” he said, from across the street.

  “What do you want?” asked Bert roughly.

  “I’ve got something to tell you. It won’t take but a minute.”

  Bert hesitated, and then leaving Nan to go on alone with the sled, he crossed to where Danny was standing, partly sheltered by a tree box.

  “You can’t blame that broken window off on me, Danny Rugg,” he began.

  “Hush!” whispered Danny, in alarm. “I ain’t going to blame it off on you, Bert. I only want you to promise to keep quiet about it.”

  “Why should
I? It was your fault.”

  “Was it? I don’t think so. You began the fight. Besides, if you dare to say a word, I’ll—I’ll give you a big thrashing!” blustered Danny.

  He clenched his fists as he spoke and looked so fierce that Bert retreated a step.

  “I haven’t said anything, Danny.”

  “Then you had better not. Old Ringley doesn’t know who broke his window. So you keep quiet; do you hear?”

  “Are you sure he doesn’t know?”

  “Yes, because he has been asking everybody about it.”

  There was a pause and the two boys looked at each other.

  “You ought to pay for the window,” said Bert.

  “Huh! I’m not going to do it. You can pay for it if you want to. But don’t you dare to say anything about me! If you do, you’ll catch it, I can tell you!” And then Danny walked off.

  “What did he have to say?” questioned Nan, when Bert came back to her.

  “He wants me to keep still. He says Mr. Ringley doesn’t know who did it.”

  “Did you promise to keep still, Bert?”

  “No, but if I say anything Danny says he will give it to me.”

  A crowd of boys and girls now came up and the talk was changed. All were having a merry time in the snow, and for the time being Bert forgot his troubles. He and Nan gave Freddie and Flossie a long ride which pleased the younger twins very much.

  “I wish you was really and truly horses,” said Flossie. “You go so beautifully!”

  “And if I had a whip I could make you go faster,” put in Freddie.

  “For shame, Freddie!” exclaimed Nan. “Would you hit the horse that gave you such a nice ride?”

  “Let me give you a ride,” answered the little fellow, to change the subject.

  He insisted upon it, and soon Nan was on the sled behind Flossie, and Bert and Freddie were hauling them along where pulling was easy. This was great sport for Freddie, and he puffed and snorted like a real horse, and kicked up his heels, very much to Flossie’s delight.

  “Gee-dap!” shrieked the little maiden. “Gee-dap!” and moved back and forth on the sled, to make it go faster. Away went Freddie and Bert, as fast as the legs of the little fellow could travel. They went down a long hill and through a nice side street, and it was a good half hour before they reached home,—just in time for a good hot supper.

  CHAPTER V

  Bert’s Ghost

  Bert felt relieved to learn that Mr. Ringley did not know who had broken the store window, but he was still fearful that the offense might be laid at his door. He was afraid to trust Danny Rugg, and did not know what the big boy might do.

  “He may say I did it, just to clear himself,” thought Bert. “And if Mr. Ringley comes after me, he’ll remember me sure.”

  But his anxiety was forgotten that evening, when some of the neighbors dropped in for a call. There was music on the piano and some singing, and almost before Bert and Nan knew it, it was time to go to bed. Freddie and Flossie had already retired, worn out by their play.

  But after Bert had said his prayers and found himself alone in the small bed chamber he occupied, he could not sleep. The talk of the folks below kept him awake at first, and even after they had gone to bed he could not forget the happening of the day, and he could still hear the crash of that glass as the chunk of ice went sailing through it.

  At last he fell into a troubled doze, with the bright light of the moon shining across the rug at the foot of the bed. But the doze did not last long, and soon some kind of a noise awoke him with a start.

  He opened his eyes and his gaze wandered across the moon-lit room. Was he dreaming, or was that really a figure in white standing at the foot of his bed? With a shiver he ducked down and covered his head with the blankets.

  For two or three minutes he lay quiet, expecting every instant to have something unusual happen. Then, with great caution, he pushed the blankets back and took another look.

  There was nothing there!

  “But I saw something,” he told himself. “I am sure I saw something. What could it have been?”

  Ah, that was the question. For over an hour he continued to lie awake, watching and listening. Nan was in the next little chamber and he was half of a mind to call her, but he was afraid she would call him a “’fraid-cat!” something he despised.

  Bert had heard of ghosts and now he thought of all the ghost stories he could remember. Had the thing in white been a ghost? If so, where had it come from?

  After a while he tried to dismiss the thing from his mind, but it was almost morning before he fell asleep again. This time he slept so soundly, however, that he did not rouse up until his mother came and shook him.

  “Why, Bert, what makes you sleep so soundly this morning?” said Mrs. Bobbsey.

  “I—I didn’t get to sleep until late,” he stammered. And then he added: “Mamma, do you believe in ghosts?”

  “Why, of course not, Bert. What put that into your head?”

  “I—I thought I saw a ghost last night.”

  “You must have been mistaken. There are no ghosts.”

  “But I saw something,” insisted the boy.

  “Where?”

  “Right at the foot of the bed. It was all white.”

  “When was this?”

  “Right in the middle of the night.”

  “Did you see it come in, or go out?”

  “No, mamma. When I woke up it was standing there, and when I took a second look at it, it was gone.”

  “You must have been suffering from a nightmare, Bert,” said Mrs. Bobbsey kindly. “You should not have eaten those nuts before going to bed.”

  “No, it wasn’t a nightmare,” said the boy.

  He had but little to say while eating breakfast, but on the way to school he told Nan, while Freddie and Flossie listened also.

  “Oh, Bert, supposing it was a real ghost?” cried Nan, taking a deep breath. “Why, I’d be scared out of my wits,—I know I’d be!”

  “Mamma says there are no ghosts. But I saw something—I am sure of that.”

  “I don’t want to see any ghostses,” came from Flossie.

  “Nor I,” added Freddie. “Sam told about a ghost once that was as high as a tree an’ had six heads, to eat bad boys and girls up. Did this have six heads, Bert?”

  “No.”

  “How many heads did it have?”

  “I don’t know—one, I guess.”

  “And was it as high as a tree?” went on the inquisitive little fellow.

  “Oh, it couldn’t stand up in the room if it was as high as a tree,” burst out Flossie.

  “Could if it was a tiny baby tree,” expostulated Freddie.

  “It was about as high as that,” said Bert, putting out his hand on a level with his shoulder. “I can’t say how it looked, only it was white.”

  “Perhaps it was moonshine,” suggested Nan, but at this Bert shook his head. He felt certain it had been more substantial than moonshine.

  That day Danny Rugg came to school as usual. When questioned about his absence he said he had had a toothache. When Bert looked at him the big boy merely scowled, and no words passed between the pair.

  Directly back of Lakeport was a long hill, used during the winter by all the boys and girls for coasting. After school Nan and Bert were allowed to go to this hill, in company with a number of their friends. They were admonished to come back before dark and promised faithfully to do so.

  Among the boys there was a great rivalry as to who could go down the hill the fastest, and who could make his sled go the farthest after the bottom was reached.

  “I’ll try my sled against yours!” cried Charley Mason to Bert.

  “Done!” returned Bert. “Are you going down alone, or are you going to carry somebody?”

  “You must carry me down,” insisted Nan.

  “Then I’ll take Nellie Parks,” went on Charley.

  Nellie was close at hand and soon the two sleds were side by s
ide, with a girl on each. Bert and Charley stood behind.

  “Are you ready?” asked Charley.

  “Yes.”

  “Then go!”

  Away went both lads, giving each sled a lively shove down the hill. Then each hopped aboard, and took hold of the rope with which to steer.

  “A race! A race!” shouted those standing near.

  “I think Charley will win!” said some.

  “I think Bert will win!” said others.

  “Oh, let us win if we can!” whispered Nan to her twin brother.

  “I’ll do my best, Nan,” was the answer.

  Down the long hill swept the two sleds, almost side by side. Each was rushing along at a lively rate of speed, and those aboard had to hold on tightly for fear of being jounced off.

  “Whoop!” roared Charley. “Clear the track, for I am coming!”

  “Make room for me!” sang out Bert. “We are bound to win!”

  The bottom of the hill was almost reached when Charley’s sled began to crawl a bit ahead.

  “Oh, Bert, they are going to beat us after all,” cried Nan disappointedly.

  “I knew we’d beat you,” cried Nellie Parks. “Charley’s is the best sled on the hill.”

  “The race isn’t over yet,” said Bert.

  His sled had been running in rather soft snow. Now he turned to where the coasting was better, and in a twinkling his sled shot forward until he was once more beside Charley and Nellie.

  “Here we come!” shouted Bert. “Make room, I say! Make room.”

  On and on they went, and now the bottom of the hill was reached and they ran along a level stretch. Charley’s sled began to slow up, but Bert’s kept on and on until he had covered a hundred feet beyond where Charley had come to a stop.

  “We’ve won!” cried Nan excitedly. “Oh, Bert, your sled is a wonder.”

  “So it is,” he answered, with pride. “But it was a close race, wasn’t it?”

  When they came back to where Charley and Nellie stood they found Charley rather sulky.

  “Nellie is heavier than Nan,” said he. “It wasn’t a fair race. Let us try it alone next time.”

  “I’m willing,” answered Bert.

  CHAPTER VI

  Coasting, and What Came of It

  It was a long walk back to the top of the hill, but Nan and Bert did not mind it.