The Bobbsey Twins Megapack

by Laura Lee Hope

  “If Dinah has them, yes.”

  “But I cain’t find ’em!” complained the fat cook. “Dem muffins hab jest done gone an’ hid de’se’ves.”

  “Oh, I guess we ate them up without knowing it,” Bert said, with a laugh. “Never mind, Dinah, a piece of cake, or pie will do just as well.”

  “Go ’long wif yo’!” cried the cook with a laugh. “I’se got suffin else t’ do ’cept make cake an’ pies fo’ two hungry boys. Yo’ jest take a piece ob bread an’ butter ’till dinnah am ready.”

  “All right,” agreed Bert. “It won’t be long until twelve o’clock. Come on, Harry, and we’ll see what luck we have fishing.”

  “I’m ready,” was Harry’s answer.

  “I’ll get you the bread and butter,” offered Nan, and she did, adding some jam to the bread, which was a delightful surprise to the two boys.

  “I want to fish, too,” said Freddie.

  “All right, I’ll fix you a line,” offered Bert. “But be careful you don’t fall in. A fish might pull you overboard.”

  Soon the three boys were dangling their lines over the rail of the Bluebird, while Nan helped her mother with some of the rooms, which, even though they were on a boat, needed “putting to rights.” Dinah was busy in the kitchen.

  By this time Mr. Bobbsey had reached Lakeport by the trolley. He was going to his lumber office, thinking some of his friends, whom he might call on the telephone could suggest a way out of the trouble. Before he reached the lumber yard, however, he met an acquaintance on the street, a Mr. Murphy.

  “Why, hello, Mr. Bobbsey!” exclaimed Mr. Murphy. “I thought you were off on a vacation with your family in a houseboat.”

  “I was,” said the lumber merchant, “but I came back.”

  “Back so soon? Didn’t you like it?”

  “Oh, yes, first rate. But we can’t go any farther.”

  “Can’t go any farther? What’s the matter, did your boat sink?”

  “No, but we’re stuck in Lemby Creek. Mr. Hardee, a farmer who owns land on both sides of the creek, has put a wire fence across to stop us from going on to Lake Romano.”

  “Is that so! Well, that’s too bad. How did it happen?”

  “I’ll tell you,” said Mr. Bobbsey.

  Then he told the story of stopping the angry farmer from beating Will Watson, and how the fence had been built in the night.

  “Well, that certainly was a mean trick on the part of Mr. Hardee,” said Mr. Murphy. “And so the boy ran away?”

  “Yes, and Mr. Hardee accused me of knowing something about him, but I don’t—any more than you do.”

  “I suppose not. But now the question is, How are you going to get past that wire fence?”

  “I don’t know. The only way I see is to get Mr. Hardee to cut it, or take it down, and he says he won’t do either.”

  “Humph! Let me see. There ought to be a way out of it. I believe he has the right, as far as the law goes, to put that fence up, but no one else would be so mean. I guess we’ll just have to force him to cut those wires, as your little boy, Freddie, suggested.”

  “Yes, but how can we do it?” asked Mr. Bobbsey. “Mr. Hardee is very headstrong, and set in his ways.”

  “Let me see,” spoke Mr. Murphy slowly, “isn’t his name Jake Hardee?”

  “Yes, I believe it is.”

  “And didn’t he buy from you the lumber to build his house?”

  “Yes, I sold him the lumber, but he paid me for it,” said Mr. Bobbsey. “I couldn’t get any hold on him that way. He paid for the lumber in cash.”

  “Yes,” cried Mr. Murphy, “but he got the money from me to pay you, and he hasn’t paid me back. He still owes me the money, and he gave me a mortgage on his house as security. I’ve got a hold on him all right. He owes me some interest money, too.”

  I might say to you little children that when a man wants to build a house and has not enough money, he goes to another man and borrows cash, just as your mamma sometimes borrows sugar, or tea, from the lady next door.

  When the man borrows money to build his house, he gives to the man who lends him the cash, a piece of paper, called a mortgage. That paper says that if the man who borrowed the money does not pay it back, and also pay interest for the use of it, the man who lent him the money can take the house. The house is “security” for the loaned money.

  It is just as if your mamma went next door to borrow a cup of sugar, and said:

  “Now, Mrs. Jones, if I don’t pay you back this sugar, and a little more than you gave me, for being so kind as to lend it to me—if I don’t pay it back in a week, why you can keep my new Sunday hat.” And your mamma might give Mrs. Jones a Sunday hat as “security” for the cup of sugar. Of course ladies do not do those things, but that is what a mortgage is like.

  “Yes.” said Mr. Murphy to Mr. Bobbsey, “Mr. Hardee borrowed from me the money to buy from you the lumber for his house. And he hasn’t paid me back the money, nor any interest on it. I think I’ll go up and have a talk with him. And, when I get through talking, I guess he’ll let you go through his wire fence.”

  “I hope he will,” said Mr. Bobbsey, “for it would be too bad to have our trip spoiled.”

  “I’ll go right back with you,” offered Mr. Murphy.

  So it happened that Mr. Bobbsey, with his friend, reached the houseboat, in Lemby Creek, shortly after dinner.

  “Oh, back so soon?” asked Mrs. Bobbsey. “What are you going to do, Mr. Murphy?”

  “Have a talk with Mr. Hardee.”

  Mr. Bobbsey and Mr. Murphy walked down the bank of the creek to the farm. They found Mr. Hardee mending a broken harness.

  “Mr. Hardee,” said Mr. Murphy, “I hear you have put a wire fence across Lemby Creek, so my friend, Mr. Bobbsey, can’t get past with his houseboat.”

  “Yes, I have,” growled the farmer, “and that fence is going to stay up, too! I’ll show him he can’t come around here, interferin’ with me when I try to punish my help. He made Will run away too.”

  “No, I did not. I know nothing of him,” said Mr. Bobbsey.

  “Mr. Hardee,” went on Mr. Murphy. “I want you to take down that fence, and let the houseboat go on up the creek.”

  “And I’m not going to!”

  “Very well, then,” said Mr. Murphy, quietly, “perhaps you are ready to pay me the interest on my mortgage which has been due me for some time, Mr. Hardee.”

  The farmer seemed uneasy.

  “Well, to tell you the truth,” he said, “I haven’t got that money just now, Mr. Murphy. Times have been hard, and crops are poor, and I’m short of cash. Can’t you wait a while?”

  “I have waited some time.”

  “Well, I’d like to have you wait a little longer. I’ll pay you after a while.”

  “And I suppose you’ll take down that wire fence, and let Mr. Bobbsey and the twins go past—after a while?”

  “Well—maybe,” growled the mean farmer.

  “Maybe won’t do!” exclaimed Mr. Murphy. “I want you to take the wire fence down right away.”

  “Well, I’m not going to do it. He interfered with me, and made that boy run away, and I’m not going to let him go up my part of the creek.”

  “Well, then, Mr. Hardee, if you can’t do something for Mr. Bobbsey, as a favor, I can’t do anything to oblige you. Mr. Bobbsey is a friend of mine and unless you cut your wire fence, I’ll have to foreclose that mortgage, and take your house in payment for the money you owe me. That’s all there is about it. Either pay me my money—or cut that fence. It must be one or the other.”

  Mr. Hardee squirmed in his seat, and seemed very uneasy.

  “I—I just can’t pay that money,” he said.

  “Then I’ll have to take your house away.”

  “I—I don’t want you to do that, either.”

  “Then cut the wire fence!” cried Mr. Murphy.

  “Wa’al, I—I guess I’ll have to,” said Mr. Hardee, but it was clearly to be seen t
hat he did not want to. He went into the barn, and came out wearing a pair of rubber boots, and carrying a pair of pincers—the “wire-cutting things,” as Freddie called them.

  Wading out into the creek Mr. Hardee snipped the wires of the fence.

  “There, now you can go on,” he said to Mr. Bobbsey, but his tone was not pleasant.

  “I thought I knew how to make him give in,” whispered Mr. Murphy.

  “Thank you,” said Mr. Bobbsey to his friend. They hurried back to the houseboat.

  “We’re going on again!” cried the twins’ father. “The fence is down.”

  “Oh, fine!” said Bert.

  “Now for the waterfall!” sighed Nan, who loved beautiful scenery.

  “Oh, I’ve caught a fish!” suddenly shouted Freddie and he jumped about so that his mother, with a scream, ran toward him, fearing he would go overboard.

  CHAPTER XV

  Overboard

  “Look out, Freddie!”

  “Be careful there, little fat fireman!”

  Thus Mrs. Bobbsey cried to the small twin, and thus Mr. Bobbsey also warned his son, who had pulled up his pole with a jerk, when he felt a nibble on the fish-line.

  “I’ll look out for him!” cried Bert, and he got between his little brother and the railing of the boat, so there would be no danger of Freddie’s falling overboard. Freddie had no intention of getting into the water, but he was much excited over his fish.

  “I caught it all myself!” he cried. “I caught a fish all by myself, and nobody helped me. Didn’t I, Bert?”

  “Yes, Freddie, except that Harry put on the grasshopper bait.”

  “But where’s the fish?” asked Nan, who, as yet, had not seen one.

  “Here it is!” cried Freddie, as he ran toward the end of his line which lay on deck. “I caught a fish, and it’s all mine—every bit,” and he held up a little, wiggling sunfish which, somehow or other, had been caught on the tiny hook.

  “Oh, it’s a real, live fish!” squealed Flossie, dropping her doll to get a better view of this new plaything. “Are we going to have it for supper, Freddie?”

  “No!” cried the little fat fellow, as he tried to hold the fish up by the swinging line in one hand, and grasp it in the other. The fish was so slippery that, every time Freddie had it, his hand slid off of it. “We’re not going to eat my fish!” cried Freddie. “I’m going to keep it forever, in a glass globe, and make it do tricks!”

  The others gathered around to see Freddie’s catch, for the little fellow was very proud of his success, though, once or twice before, on trips to the country, he had been allowed to fish with Bert and Nan. He was too impatient to sit still long, so he never caught much.

  “Here comes Snoop,” said Mr. Bobbsey, with a laughing glance at his friend Mr. Murphy, who had come back to the houseboat with him, after the mean farmer had cut the wire fence.

  “Snoop can’t have my fish!” cried Freddie, now hugging his dangling prize close to his waist.

  “Oh, you’ll get your clothes all dirty!” cried Mrs. Bobbsey, as the black cat came snooping and sniffing around, for she smelled fish, which she very much liked.

  “Go ’way, Snoop! You can’t have my fish!” cried Freddie. “I’m going to put it in a glass globe, and keep it forever and teach it to do tricks.”

  “I guess swimming is the only trick a fish can do,” said Bert, with a laugh, “and you don’t have to teach them that. They know it already.”

  Freddie was so afraid that Snoop might get his fish, that Dinah brought him up a glass dish, in which, when it was filled with water, the little “sunny” was allowed to swim around. The hook had become fastened in only a corner of the mouth, and the fish was not hurt in the least.

  Freddie was as proud as though he had caught a whale or a shark. He did not care to fish any more, but stood on deck near the box on which had been placed the dish containing his fish.

  Bert and Harry, who had caught some larger fish, went back to their rods and lines, while Nan took up Freddie’s pole and used it for herself. Flossie divided her time between getting her doll to “sleep” and watching Freddie’s fish.

  “Well, are we really going up the creek?” asked Mrs. Bobbsey.

  “Yes, Mr. Murphy got the farmer to cut the wire fence, so we can get past,” said Mr. Bobbsey. “We had better start, too, for Mr. Hardee might change his mind, and put back the wire fence.”

  “I guess there isn’t much danger of that,” spoke Mr. Murphy. “But you have a fine boat. I don’t wonder that you didn’t want to stay cooped up here in this creek.”

  Flossie, who had come over near the visitor, said:

  “There’s a stove in our kitchen, and Dinah cooks things on it—good things to eat!”

  “Does she?” cried Mr. Murphy, catching the little girl up in his arms. “That’s fine!”

  “I think you might take that as an invitation to dinner,” said Mrs. Bobbsey, with a laugh.

  “Thanks, I will stay, and see how it feels to eat on board a houseboat,” replied the man who had helped Mr. Bobbsey.

  Bert and Harry decided that they had caught enough fish now, so they pulled in their lines, and soon the Bluebird was moving slowly up the creek, toward Lake Romano, though it would be a day or so before the Bobbseys reached it.

  As the houseboat went past the wire fence, which had been cut, the twins and their cousins looked at it in wonder. Only the posts stood there now, and there was room enough between them for the houseboat to pass. A little way back from the shore stood Mr. Hardee.

  “I’m not going to let every boat go past that wants to!” he called to Mr. Bobbsey. “I’ll let you through, as a favor to Mr. Murphy, but I’m not going to have a whole lot of them sailin’ up and down my creek!”

  “Just as if it would hurt the water,” said Bert, in a low voice.

  They were all glad when a turn of the stream hid Mr. Hardee from sight. The mean farmer evidently thought he had not been unpleasant enough, for he ran after the houseboat a little way, crying:

  “If you see anything of that good-for-nothing boy of mine, I want you to tell him to come back here, or it will be the worse for him.”

  “We’re not likely to see him,” said Mr. Bobbsey.

  “I don’t know about that,” went on the farmer. “I believe you folks know something about him.”

  “That’s all nonsense!” said Mr. Bobbsey, sharply. “I’ve told you we don’t know where he is, and haven’t seen him since you tried to horsewhip him. That ought to be enough.”

  “Wa’al, we’ll see,” was the growling answer, as the mean farmer turned away.

  The houseboat kept on, until it was well past Mr. Hardee’s land, and then, in a pleasant part of the creek, it was tied to the bank. Dinah served supper.

  “See! I told you we had a stove, and that Dinah could cook things,” said Flossie, as a plate full of steaming hot corn muffins was set on the table.

  “So you did, my dear!” exclaimed Mr. Murphy, who sat next to the little “fat fairy.”

  Flossie seemed to think the most wonderful part of the houseboat was the kitchen and the stove.

  When the pleasant meal was over, they sat on deck in the evening, until it was time for Mr. Murphy to go home. He was to walk across the meadow, about a mile, to get a trolley car. Mr. Bobbsey went with him, part of the way.

  For several days after this, the Bobbsey twins had all sorts of amusements on the house-boat. The Bluebird was still kept in the creek, for it was so pleasant there, along the shady waterway, that Mrs. Bobbsey said they might as well enjoy it as long as possible.

  “But I want to see the big lake and the waterfall,” said Nan.

  “We’ll soon be there,” promised her father.

  One day the houseboat was moved along the creek for about a mile, and anchored there. Bert and Harry found the fishing so good, that they wanted to stay a long time. They really caught some large perch and chub.

  “But we didn’t come on this trip just to fis
h,” said Mr. Bobbsey. “There are other things to do. We want to go in swimming, when it gets a little warmer, and then, too, we can take some walks in the woods on the shores of Lake Romano.”

  “And can we have picnics, and take our lunch?” asked Freddie.

  “Yes, little fat fireman,” answered his father, laughing.

  Freddie had been kept so busy with other amusements, that he had not once played with his fire engine, since coming on board.

  “Let me catch some fish,” begged Flossie, on the afternoon of the day when they were to move from the place that Bert and Harry liked so well.

  “You may take my line,” offered Freddie. “I’m tired of fishing.”

  I think perhaps Freddie grew weary because he had had no bites. That one fish he had caught, and which had caused so much excitement, seemed to be all he could get. That one was still alive in the glass dish, which Bert had made into sort of an aquarium.

  “I’m going to catch a big fish,” said Flossie, as she laid her doll down beside the sleeping dog Snap, and took Freddie’s pole.

  “Don’t fall in—that’s all,” cautioned Mrs. Bobbsey.

  “I’ll watch her,” offered Dorothy, for Nan had gone down to help dry the dishes, it being her “turn.”

  Somehow or other, every one forgot Flossie for a moment, and even Dorothy, who had promised to watch her, forgot when she saw some small boats, filled with young folks on an excursion, pass the houseboat.

  Suddenly there came a scream from little Flossie.

  “I see him! I see him!” she cried. “He’s on our boat!”

  The next moment her mother, who turned quickly as she heard Flossie’s voice, saw the little girl lean far over the rail of the Bluebird. Then came a splash. Flossie had fallen overboard!

  CHAPTER XVI

  The Missing Sandwiches

  “Flossie is in the water!”

  “Get the boat!”

  “Snap! Jump in and get her!”

  “Oh, Flossie!”

  So many were the excited cries that followed the falling over the rail of little Flossie, that no one could tell who was speaking, or crying out.

  Harry, who was near the rail, turned sharply as he heard the splash, and then, quickly casting off his coat, he gave a clean dive over the side. Harry was a country boy, and had learned to swim when very young. He was not at all afraid of the water, and, more than once, he had pulled from “the old swimming hole,” boys smaller than himself, who had gone beyond their depth, and could not get out.