“Could we ever go into the house where the President lives?” asked Nan of her father that night.
“Yes, we can visit the White House or, rather, one room in it,” said Mr. Bobbsey. “What they call the ‘East Room’ is the one in which visitors are allowed. Perhaps we may go there tomorrow, if Mr. Martin and I can finish some business we are working on.”
After breakfast the next morning the Bobbsey twins were glad to hear their father say that he would take them to the White House; and, a little later, in company with other visitors, they were allowed to enter the home of the President, and walk about the big room on the east side of the White House.
“I’m going to sit down on one of the chairs,” said Nan. “Maybe it will be one that the President once sat on.”
“Very likely it will be,” laughed Mrs. Bobbsey, as Nan picked out a place into which she “wiggled.” From the chair she smiled at her brothers and sister, and they, too, took turns sitting in the same chair.
Bert found a pin on the thick green carpet in the room. The carpet was almost as thick and green as the moss in the woods, and how Bert ever saw the tiny pin I don’t know. But he had very sharp eyes.
“What are you going to do with it?” asked his father.
“Just keep it,” the boy answered. “Maybe it’s a pin the President’s wife once used in her clothes.”
“Oh, you think it’s a souvenir!” laughed Mrs. Bobbsey, as Bert stuck the pin in the edge of his coat. And for a long time he kept that common, ordinary pin, and he used to show it to his boy friends, and tell them where he found it.
“The White House President’s pin,” he used to call it.
“And now,” said Mr. Bobbsey, as they came from the White House, “I think we’ll have time to see the Monument before lunch.”
“That’s good!” exclaimed Nan. “And shall we go up inside it?”
“I think so,” her father replied.
Washington Monument, as a good many of you know, is not a solid shaft of stone. It is built of great granite blocks, as a building is built, and is, in fact, a building, for it has several little rooms in the base; rooms where men can stay who watch the big pointed shaft of stone, and other rooms where are kept the engines that run the elevator.
The bottom part of Washington Monument is square, and on one side is a doorway. Above the base the shaft itself stretches up over five hundred feet in height, and the top part is pointed, like the pyramids of the desert. The monument shaft is hollow, and there is a stairway inside, winding around the elevator shaft. Some people walk up the stairs to get to the top of the monument, where they can look out of small windows over the city of Washington and the Potomac River. But most persons prefer to go up and down in the elevator, though it is slow and, if there are many visitors they have to await their turns.
If the Bobbseys had walked up inside the monument they would have seen the stones contributed by the different states and territories. Each state sent on a certain kind of stone when the monument was being built, and these stones are built into the great shaft.
As it happened, there was not a very large crowd visiting the monument the day the Bobbseys were there, so they did not have long to wait for their turn in the elevator.
“This isn’t fast like the Woolworth Building elevators were,” remarked Bert as they felt themselves being hoisted up.
“No,” agreed his father. “But this does very well. This is not a business building, and there is no special hurry in getting to the top.”
But at last they reached the end of their journey and stepped out of the elevator cage into a little room. There were windows on the sides, and from there the children could look out.
“It’s awful high up,” said Nan, as she peeped out.
“Not as high as the Woolworth Building,” stated Bert, who had jotted down the figures in a little book he carried.
Flossie and Freddie had gone around to the other side of the elevator shaft with their mother, to look from the windows nearest the river, and, a moment later, Mr. Bobbsey, Nan and Bert heard a cry of:
“Oh, Flossie! Flossie! Look out! There it goes!”
CHAPTER XIII
A Stray Cat
Mr. Bobbsey, who was standing near Bert and Nan, turned quickly as he heard his wife call and ran around to her side.
“What’s the matter?” he called. “Has Flossie fallen?”
But one look was enough to show him that the two little Bobbsey twins and their mother were all right. But Flossie was without her hat, and she had been wearing a pretty one with little pink roses on it.
“What happened?” asked Mr. Bobbsey, while one of the men who stay inside the Monument at the top, to see that no accidents happen, came around to inquire if he could be of any help.
“It’s Flossie’s hat,” explained Mrs. Bobbsey. “She was taking it off, as she said the rubber band hurt her, when a puff of wind came along—”
“And it just blowed my hat right away!” cried Flossie. “It just blowed it right out of my hand, and it went out of the window, my hat did! And now I haven’t any more hat, and I’ll—I’ll—an’—an’—”
Flossie burst into tears.
“Never mind, little fat fairy!” her father comforted her, as he put his arms around her. “Daddy will get you another hat.”
“But I want that one!” sobbed Flossie. “It has such pretty roses on it, an’ I liked ’em, even if they didn’t smell!”
“I guess the little girl’s hat will be all right when you get down on the ground,” said the monument man. “Many people lose their hats up here, and unless it’s a man’s stiff one, or unless it’s raining or snowing, little harm comes to them. I guess your little girl’s hat just fluttered to the ground like a bird, and you can pick it up again.”
“Do you think so?” asked Mrs. Bobbsey.
“Oh, you’ll get her hat back again, ma’am, I’m sure,” the man said. “There’s lots of boys and young men who stay around the monument, hoping for a chance to earn a stray dime or so by showing visitors around or carrying something. One of them probably saw the hat flutter out of the window, and somebody will pick it up.”
“Well, let’s go down and see,” suggested Mr. Bobbsey. “I think we have had all the view we want.”
“Don’t cry, Flossie,” whispered Nan consolingly, as she took her little sister by the hand. “We’ll get your hat back again.”
“And the roses, too?” Flossie asked.
“Yes, the roses and everything,” her mother told her.
“If I were a big, grown-up fireman, I could climb down and get Flossie’s hat,” said Freddie. “That’s what firemans do. They climb up and down big places and get things—and people,” the little boy added after a moment of thought.
“Well, I don’t want my little fireman climbing down Washington Monument,” said Mr. Bobbsey. “It’s safer to go down in the elevator.”
And, a little later, the Bobbsey twins and their father and mother were back on the ground again. Once outside the big stone shaft, they saw a boy come running up with Flossie’s hat in his hand.
“Oh, look! Look!” cried the little girl. “There it is! There it is!”
“Is this your hat?” the small boy wanted to know. “I saw it blow out of the window, and I chased it and chased it. I was afraid maybe it would blow into the river.”
“It was very nice of you,” said Mr. Bobbsey, and he gave the boy twenty-five cents, which pleased that small chap very much.
Flossie’s hat was a little dusty, but the pink roses were not soiled, and soon she was wearing it again. Then, smiling and happy, she was ready to go with the others to the next sight-seeing place.
“Where now?” asked Bert, as they started away from the little hill on which the Monument stands.
“I think we’ll go to the Smithsonian Museum,” said his father. “There are a few things I want to see, though you children may not be very much interested. Then I want to take your mother to the art galler
y and after that—well, we’ll see what happens next,” and he smiled at the Bobbsey twins.
“I know it will be something nice!” exclaimed Nan.
“I hope it’s something good to eat!” murmured Bert. “I’m hungry!”
“I’d like to see a fire!” cried Freddie. “Do they ever have fires in Washington, Daddy?”
“Oh, yes, big ones, sometimes. But we really don’t want to see any, because a fire means danger and trouble for people.”
“And wettings, too,” put in Flossie. “Sometimes when Freddie plays fire he gets me wet.”
“Well, I’m goin’ to be a fireman when I grow up,” declared Freddie. “And I wish I had my little fire engine now, ’cause I don’t like it not to have any fun.”
“We’ll have some fun this afternoon,” his father promised him.
Just as Mr. Bobbsey had expected, the children were not much amused in the art gallery or the museum. But Mrs. Bobbsey liked these places, and, after all, as Nan said, they wanted their mother to have a good time on this Washington trip.
After lunch they went again to call on the Martins, as Mr. Bobbsey had to see the father of Billy and Nell on business.
“And where are we going to have some fun?” Bert asked, as they journeyed away from their hotel toward the Martin house.
“You’ll see,” his father promised. The children tried to guess what it might be, but they could not be sure of anything.
It did not take Mr. Bobbsey long to get through with his business with Mr. Martin and then the father of the twins said to Mrs. Martin:
“Can you let Billy and Nell come with us on a little trip?”
“To be sure. But where are you going?” Mrs. Martin replied.
“I thought we’d take one of the big sight-seeing autos and ride about the city, and perhaps outside a little way,” said Mr. Bobbsey. “Nell and Billy can tell us the best way to go.”
“Oh, yes! I can do that’” cried Billy. “I often take rides that way with my uncle when he comes to Washington. Come on, Nell! We’ll get ready.”
“May we really go?” asked Nell, of her mother.
“Yes, indeed!” was the answer.
So, a little later, the Bobbsey twins, with Billy and Nell and Mr. and Mrs. Bobbsey, were on one of the big automobiles. It was not too cold to ride outside, as they were all bundled up warm.
Through the different parts of the city the sight-seeing car went, a man on it telling the persons aboard about the different places of interest as they were passed. In a little while the machine rumbled out into the quieter streets, where the houses were rather far apart.
Then the automobile came to a stop, and some one asked:
“What’s so wonderful to see here?”
“Nothing,” the driver of the car answered. “But I have to get some water for the radiator. We won’t be here very long. Those who want to, can get out and walk around.”
“Yes, I’ll be glad to stretch by legs,” said one man with a laugh. He was sitting next to Mr. and Mrs. Bobbsey, and they began talking to him. Nan and Bert were talking to Billy and Nell, and, for the time being, no one paid much attention to Flossie and Freddie, who were in a rear seat.
Suddenly Flossie called to her little brother;
“Oh, look! There’s a cat! It’s just like our Snoop!”
Freddie looked to where Flossie pointed with her chubby finger.
“No, that isn’t like our Snoop,” said the little boy, shaking his head.
“Yes, ’tis too!” declared his sister. “I’m going to get down and look at it. I like a cat, and I didn’t see one close by for a long time.”
“Neither did I,” agreed Freddie. “If that one isn’t like our Snoop, it’s a nice cat, anyhow.”
The cat, which seemed to be a stray one, was walking toward the car, its tail held high in the air “like a fishing pole.”
Flossie and Freddie were in the rear seat, as I have said, and no one seemed to be paying any attention to them. Their father and mother were busy talking to the man who had gotten down to “stretch his legs,” and Nan and Bert, with Billy and Nell, were busy talking.
“Let’s get down,” proposed Flossie.
“All right,” agreed Freddie.
In another moment the two smaller Bobbsey twins had left their seat, climbed down the rear steps of the sight-seeing automobile, and were running toward the stray cat, which seemed to wait for them to come and pet it.
CHAPTER XIV
Stray Children
“Nice pussy! Come and let me rub you!” said Freddie softly, as he held out his hand toward the stray cat.
“Yes, come here, Snoop!” added Flossie, as she walked along with her brother.
“’Tisn’t Snoop, and you mustn’t call him that name,” ordered Freddie.
“Well, he looks like Snoop,” declared Flossie.
“But if that isn’t his name he won’t like to be called by it, no more than if I called you Susie when your name’s Flossie,” went on the little boy.
“Do you s’pose cats know their names?” asked Flossie.
“Course they do!” exclaimed her brother. “Don’t our Snoop know his name when I call him, same as our dog Snap does?”
“Oh, well, but our cat is a very, very, smart cat!”
“Maybe this one is, too,” Freddie said. “Anyhow, we’ll just call him ‘Puss’ or ‘Kittie,’ and he’ll like that, ’cause that’s a name for any cat.”
“That’s so,” agreed Flossie.
So calling to the stray cat in their soft, little voices, and holding out their hands to pet the animal, Flossie and Freddie walked farther away from the sight-seeing car, and soon they were petting the cat that, indeed, did look a bit like Snoop.
They stroked the soft back of the cat, rubbed its ears, and the animal rubbed up against their legs and purred. Then, suddenly, the cat heard a dog barking somewhere, and ran down toward the side entrance of a large, handsome house.
“Oh, come on!” cried Freddie to his sister, as he saw the cat running away. “Maybe there’s some little cats back here, and we could get one to take home with us! Come on, Flossie!”
Flossie was willing enough to go, and in a moment they were in the rear yard of one of the big houses, and out of sight from the street where the auto stood, while the man was putting water in the radiator.
The cat, once over its fright about the barking dog, seemed quieter now, and let the two little Bobbsey twins pet it again. Freddie saw a little box-like house in one corner of the yard and cried:
“I’m going to look here, Flossie! Maybe there’s kittens in it!”
“Oh, let me see!” exclaimed the little girl. Forgetting, for a time, the stray cat they had started to pet, she and her brother ran over to the little box-like house.
“Better look out!” exclaimed Flossie, as they drew near.
“Why?” asked Freddie.
“’Cause maybe there’s a strange dog in that box.”
“If there was a dog in this yard I guess this cat wouldn’t have come in here,” replied Freddie. “The cat ran when the other dog barked, and there can’t be a dog here, else the cat wouldn’t come in.”
“I wonder what’s there?” murmured Flossie.
“We’ll soon find out,” her brother said, as he bent over the little house, which was made of some boxes nailed together. There was a tiny window, with a piece of glass in it, and a small door.
Freddie began to open the little door, and he was not very much afraid, for now the cat was purring and rubbing around his legs, and the little boy felt sure that there could be no dog, or anything else scary, in the box-house, or else the cat would not have come so close.
“Maybe there isn’t anything in there,” suggested Flossie.
“Oh, there’s got to be something!” declared Freddie. “It’s a place for chickens, maybe.”
“It’s too little for chickens,” said Flossie.
“Well, maybe it’s a place for—”
That is as far as Freddie got in his talk, for, just then, a voice called from somewhere behind the children:
“Hi there! What do you want?”
“Oh!”
Freddie and Flossie both called out in surprise as they turned. They saw, standing on the back steps of the big house, a boy about as big as Bert.
“We came in after this cat,” said Freddie, and he pointed to the stray pussy that was rubbing against his legs.
“Is it your cat?” the boy wanted to know.
Flossie shook her head.
“We just followed after him,” she said. “He was out on the street, and we saw him, and we got down to rub him, and he heard a dog bark, and he ran in here, and we ran after him.”
“Oh, I see,” and the boy on the back steps smiled in a friendly way. “So it isn’t your cat.”
“No,” answered Freddie, “Is it yours?”
The boy shook his head.
“I never saw the cat before,” he answered. “It’s a nice one, though, and maybe I’ll keep it if you don’t want it.”
“Oh, we don’t want it!” Freddie said quickly. “We have a cat of our own at home. His name is Snoop.”
“And we have a dog, too,” added Flossie. “But his name is Snap. And we have Dinah and Sam. Only they aren’t a cat or a dog,” she went on. “Dinah is our cook and Sam’s her husband.”
“Where do you live?” the boy asked.
“Oh, away off,” explained Freddie. “We live in Lakeport, and we go to school.”
“Only now there isn’t any school,” went on Flossie. “We can’t have a fire ’cause something broke, and we came to Washington.”
“Have you come here to live?” the strange boy questioned.
“No, only to visit,” explained Freddie. “My father has to see Mr. Martin. Do you know Mr. Martin?”
The strange boy shook his head.
“I guess he doesn’t live around here,” he remarked. “I’ve lived here all my life; but there’s nobody named Martin on this block. Where did you come from?”
“Offen the auto,” explained Freddie. “We were riding on the auto with Billy Martin and Nell, and our father and mother and Nan and Bert and—”
The Bobbsey Twins Megapack Page 141