“We’ll cut our own Christmas tree in the woods,” Mr. Bobbsey said. “And trim it with things you can make yourselves.”
“How about strings of popcorn?” Nan suggested.
“Mm, popcorn,” said Harry. “Some would taste good right now.”
“We’ll make some,” Nan suggested. “Come on.” She led the way into the kitchen, where Dinah was bustling about. “May we roast some popcorn?” she asked the cook.
“Why, sure you can, honey child!” Dinah answered. “Matter of fact I was just thinkin’ the same thing myself.”
At this moment Sam Johnson came in from outside. He greeted the visiting cousins, who, like the twins, adored Dinah’s tall, easygoing husband. “I’ll get the popper,” he offered. “It’s down in the basement.”
Presently Dinah and Sam went upstairs to their room. The twins found boxes of corn, and soon the merry pop pop of the grains could be heard. Nan melted some butter and was just about to take it from the stove when the children were alarmed by the sound of several bumps, then a crash on the stairway in the hall.
“Susie 1” they heard Flossie scream.
A second later a louder bumpety, bump, bumt, crash! rang through the house, followed by a moan.
“Flossie!” Mrs. Bobbsey cried, darting into the hall with the rest of the family following.
In a crumpled heap on the hall rug lay the little girl. Her doll was in a grotesque position on the bottom step. Alarmed, Mrs. Bobbsey bent over Flossie and quickly, but gently, examined her carefully.
“Darling, are you hurt?” she asked, as her young daughter’s eyes fluttered open.
Flossie tried to sit upright. “I—I don’t know yet,” she gasped. Then, getting to her feet, she said:
“My dolly—she fell and I tried to reach her and—” Flossie caught sight of the doll. “Oh, Susie, are you all right?”
She picked up the toy and cuddled it close, as Mr. Bobbsey caught up both of them.
“Hey, little fat fairy,” he said, smiling to hide his worry. “Are you sure nothing is wrong?”
“Honest, Daddy, I’m okay ’cept I bumped my knee and right elbow. But I’m afraid Susie’s hurt bad.”
“Let’s see if Susie can still walk,” suggested Nan. Taking the doll from Flossie, Nan walked a few paces with the doll’s feet touching the floor.
As Dinah and Sam hurried down the stairs to see what had caused the noise, Flossie heaved a sigh of relief and, taking the doll back, began to talk to Susie.
Suddenly she turned to her mother with tears in her eyes. “Susie’s lost her voice!” she cried in despair. “She can’t say a word—not even ‘Mama’!”
Sobbing, Flossie crouched on the bottom step and rocked the doll back and forth in her arms.
Sam sat down beside Flossie. “Here now,” he said kindly, “let me see Susie. Maybe I can fix her for you.”
“Oh, could you, Sam?” said Flossie, her eyes shining hopefully through her tears. Tenderly she laid the doll in the man’s outstretched hands.
Sam placed the doll face down on his lap, then rummaged about in his pockets until he produced a tiny screwdriver. Next he removed a small plate on the doll’s back, made some adjustments inside, and replaced the plate.
With a wink at Flossie, Sam turned Susie right side up again. “Good morning, Mama!” Susie said in a high-pitched voice.
“Oh, Sam, you cured her!” Flossie squealed, smiling at him as she hugged the doll tight. “Thank you, and Susie does, too. You’re a real doll-doctor !”
“Hey!” Bert interrupted, sniffing the air. “What’s burning?”
“Oh, good night!” Nan cried, racing toward the kitchen. “It’s the butter I was melting for the popcorn!”
The saucepan was black and the butter had disappeared completely. Smoke hung in the air. Bert turned on the ventilating fan, while Nan found another pan and put in a new chunk of butter.
“It’s a good thing your popper is automatic or the corn would have burned, too,” Dorothy remarked, as she picked up the burned saucepan to scour it.
Harry chuckled. “Never a dull moment!”
Half an hour later as the whole family was enjoying a fresh batch of buttered popcorn, the telephone rang.
Bert hurried to answer it, and they could hear him say, “Yes, we’re leaving tomorrow morning. We’ll be there a week. Oh, that’s all right. Good-by.”
When Bert returned to the fireplace his mother asked who had called.
“A man from the newspaper. He said the Lakeport Times wanted to put a line in the social column about our trip.”
Mrs. Bobbsey frowned. “A man?” she said. “Why, the social page is run by Clara Estes. I know her well. No man has anything to do with the social news.”
“I’m sorry, Mother,” said Bert. “I didn’t know—”
“Of course you didn’t,” Mrs. Bobbsepbroke in. “But recently burglars have been using the telephone method to learn when people will be away.”
Bert was greatly worried. “I’ll never do such a thing again. Maybe we should notify the police.”
“I think we should,” Mr. Bobbsey agreed. “I’ll ask them to keep an eye on the house until we get back.”
He went to the phone at once and put in the call. The police captain promised that patrol cars and a special detective would be on hand to protect the property and also to nab any burglar who might come there.
“I feel better now,” said Bert, heaving a sigh of relief. “I sure muffed that one.”
Mrs. Bobbsey smiled. “I feel better about it, too. And now, how about bed for you children? The earlier you wake up, the earlier we can get started for Snow Lodge.”
“I s’pose so,” said Flossie, “but I hate to leave this nice fire. I just know my bed’s going to be freezing cold.”
“Mine, too,” Freddie added. “Please, Mommy, may we have our bedtime story down here?”
“All right,” Mrs. Bobbsey agreed, “and everyone can take part in the telling. I’ll start and we’ll go around the circle, with each one continuing where the other leaves off.”
“Dorothy, don’t you play any more tricks,” Freddie pleaded.
His cousin grinned. “Not a real one, anyway,” she promised.
Mrs. Bobbsey began. “Once upon a time there was a large family who lived in a lovely house in the woods.”
“That’s us—starting tomorrow,” Flossie interrupted.
“Soon it began to snow,” her mother went on, “and by the next morning the snow was so deep that—Harry, go on with the story.”
“So deep that the only way the people could get out was from the second-floor windows,” said Harry. “One boy named Bert tried it and went right down in the fluffy stuff all the way to the ground.”
“Oh!” cried Flossie. “Did somebody rescue him?”
Harry grinned. “Bert crawled under the snow toward a cellar window that he knew was open, and—” The storyteller turned to Nan. “Your turn.”
“Just as Bert felt as if he couldn’t hold his breath another second, he climbed in and was safe.”
“I’m so glad,” Flossie murmured.
At that moment the front door chimes sounded. “I’ll go,” Bert offered, and went into the hall.
After he opened the door, there was silence. A moment later the family heard Bert gasp. Then he closed the door quickly and returned to the living room. He was holding an envelope and a sheet of paper from which he was reading with a puzzled frown.
“What does it say?” his father asked.
“I found this under the door. But there wasn’t anybody on the porch or anywhere in sight.”
“What does it say?” Mr. Bobbsey repeated.
Bert wore a frightened, puzzled expression on his face. Then, as all eyes were on him, he said, “It—it’s addressed to the Bobbsey twins. It says:‘Stay away from Snow Lodge! If you don’t, you’ll be sorry. The Black Monster will get you all!’”
CHAPTER X
TRICKS
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��B-BLACK Monster!” Freddie whispered as Bert gave his father the note to read. The little boy’s whole body was tense with fright.
Flossie gasped and grabbed her mother, who was seated next to her on the sofa.
Mr. Bobbsey examined the coarse white paper. Then suddenly he chuckled. “Don’t be frightened, children,” he said. “There’s no such thing as a ‘Black Monster.’ One of your friends is playing a joke on you. I think a child wrote this note.”
Instantly all eyes turned on Dorothy. But the girl who loved to play jokes declared she had had nothing to do with this one. “You know I wasn’t out of this room, so how could I have sounded the chimes?”
“You didn’t get someone to do it for you?” Harry put in.
“No, and why should I?” Dorothy was becoming a little indignant. “I want to go to Snow Lodge as much as anybody.”
“Sorry,” said Harry. “Uncle Dick, do you think it could have anything to do with the phone call from that man who wanted to know when we were leaving?”
If Mr. Bobbsey thought so, he did not admit it. Instead, looking at Freddie and Flossie, he said, “Now which one of your playmates might play such a trick?”
“I know just which one—Danny Rugg!” Bert exclaimed. “Don’t you see,” he said to Flossie and Freddie, “this practically has Danny’s name written all over it.”
“The note does sound like the type of prank Danny plays,” admitted Mrs. Bobbsey, stroking Flossie’s hand.
“I agree,” said Nan. “Remember his threat to ‘fix the Bobbseys’? Well, the note is probably Danny’s idea of how to do it. Let’s spoil his plan by not letting on we care one bit.”
Suddenly Bert snapped his fingers. “In fact, I’ll bet I can prove that Danny wrote this silly thing. One of the fellows in our class passed around a sheet of paper the other day, and everybody wrote a little poem on it—a sort of Christmas greeting to our teachers. Remember, Nan?”
“Yes, and I brought the poems home and copied them in green ink on a piece of red Christmas paper,” his twin added. “The original sheet is still on the desk in my bedroom. Wait a second. I’ll get it.”
In a few minutes Nan was back, holding the sheet of notebook paper on which there were a number of handwritten verses. The older twins rapidly scanned the paper until they came to the one signed by Danny Rugg.
“Here it is,” Bert said. A queer look came over his face, then he chuckled. “Danny’s not much of a poet. He wrote, ‘Christmas comes but once a year and are we glad when it gets here.”’
Nan laughed and added, “Well, I guess we’d all better get to bed.”
Instantly Mrs. Bobbsey, knowing something was wrong, literally scooped up Freddie and Flossie and whisked them upstairs.
After they were safely out of earshot, Bert said, “Dad, this note wasn’t written by Danny. And it looks like a man’s handwriting, anyway.”
Mr. Bobbsey looked at Nan and Bert proudly. “You two played your parts well in front of Freddie and Flossie. I’m afraid some man did write this note. But who and why?”
“Do you think,” Nan asked, “that it could be Dave Burdock, Mr. Carford’s nephew?”
“Not a chance. He’s too fine a man,” Mr. Bobbsey replied.
“This is more of a mystery than I expected,” said Harry. He stood up, crouched over, and doubled up his fists. “Okay, Black Monster, do your stuff, and see how long you last!”
The others laughed and soon the four children said good night and went upstairs. Harry was bunking in with the boys on an extra cot, while Dorothy had the guest room. As Mrs. Bobbsey came to see that all of them were comfortable, she whispered to each one:
“No matter who wrote that note, I don’t want any of you children to pay any more attention to it or worry. Obviously it’s someone’s idea of a joke, whether he’s a boy or a man.”
The next morning everyone was up early and busy scurrying around before breakfast. While Nan helped her mother pack last-minute articles in suitcases, Dorothy assisted Flossie in wrapping Christmas packages. There were many secret conferences and much giggling and rustling of gift paper.
Mr. Bobbsey and Harry packed the station wagon. Meanwhile, Bert and Freddie took Snoop to the lumberyard foreman.
“This is our Black Monster,” said Freddie with a chuckle, then quickly leaned over and gave Snoop a big hug in case his feelings were hurt.
After listening to Freddie describe the exact temperature of the milk and just what each meal should consist of, the foreman threw up his hands and cried:
“Whoa there, son !On that diet, your cat will be so fat when you folks get back he won’t be able to squeeze through your front door!”
Freddie grinned good-naturedly and gave Snoop a parting pat. The boys hurried home and all the family sat down to a sumptuous breakfast.
“I just thought you sailors ought to feed up strong,” Dinah said with a grin. “You got a long journey in that iceboat. And I fixed you a little snack in case the wind dies down and you find you’re stuck for a while.”
“Oh, that’s sweet of you,” said Nan with a big smile.
The other “sailors” nodded. “Nifty.” “Super.” “Swell,” they said.
Breakfast started with orange juice and stewed prunes. Then came oatmeal, and finally sausage and griddle cakes with syrup, and milk.
During a pause in the conversation, a squeaky voice suddenly said from a corner of the dining room, “Aren’t you going to take me?”
Everyone looked up, startled. In the corner, seated on a child’s chair, was one of Flossie’s dolls, but no human being.
“Please take me along,” the doll seemed to say.
Flossie’s eyes opened wide. “But Janie’s not a talking doll,” she said, puzzled. “How could she—”
Suddenly all eyes turned on Dorothy. “Did you say that? Are you playing another trick?” Flossie demanded.
Dorothy laughed. “Not guilty. Honest.”
“Then who—” Nan asked, looking from one to another at the table.
Nobody answered her, but Harry said, “How about Dinah?”
At this instant the jolly cook came into the room with another plate stacked high with griddle cakes. She was smiling.
“Dinah, did you make my dolly talk?” Flossie asked her.
Dinah’s smile changed to a puzzled frown. “Did I what? Of course not, honey child.”
At this very instant the doll said, “I’ll freeze here with no heat.”
“Of course you will,” said Flossie. “I’ll take you along and Diane and Jill and—”
Just then Bert burst out laughing. He pushed back his chair, stood up, and holding out his hand toward Harry, said:
“Ladies and gentlemen, you have just been listening to the voice of one of the country’s youngest and most talented ventriloquists—Harry Bobbsey of Meadowbrook!”
“You!” Nan exclaimed. “Why, Harry, you’re really good. How’d you learn to throw your voice and fool us like that?”
Harry grinned. “I sent for a book, and I’ve Deen practicing. So I’m good, eh? You’re my first audience.”
“I’ll say you’re good,” Dorothy praised him. “The rest of us had better watch our step at Snow Lodge.”
Mr. Bobbsey chuckled. “With Dorothy’s tricks and Harry’s ventriloquism, I’m not sure how we Lakeport Bobbseys will come out on this vacation.”
Mrs. Bobbsey thought they should start, so coats, caps, mittens, and boots were put on. Mr. Bobbsey said he would drive the four older children to the lake, then return for the others.
As they neared the Icebird’s dock Bert noticed a figure climb off the boat and walk rapidly away. He wondered who it was, and decided it was just someone interested in iceboats.
“Say, this is a honey!” Harry exclaimed as the children piled out of the station wagon. Each carried his skates, so in case of an accident to the Icebird they could skate to Snow Lodge.
Dorothy agreed enthusiastically about the boat. Nan explained that she and Ber
t called the craft Icebird because it almost seemed to fly over the ice.
When Bert, Nan, and their cousins were aboard, Mr. Bobbsey shoved them off. The sail was unfurled and a sharp breeze caught it. Soon the little craft was skimming smoothly over the ice in the direction of Snow Lodge.
On shore Mr. Bobbsey waved and called, “Good luck!” until the Icebird rounded a bend in the shoreline and disappeared.
Then he drove back to the Bobbsey home where Mrs. Bobbsey and the small twins were waiting. Freddie hopped into the front seat with his father while Mrs. Bobbsey, Flossie, and Snap got in back.
“Now do we have everything?” Mr. Bobbsey asked, wanting to be sure nothing had been forgotten.
Mrs. Bobbsey nodded reassuringly, but Freddie asked, “How about my fire engine? Is it in here, Daddy?” His father assured him it was.
“And Susie!” Flossie cried. “Where’s my dolly?”
“Snap is sitting on her,” Mrs. Bobbsey said with a chuckle. Flossie retrieved the doll at once and straightened her clothes.
“We’re off !” Freddie exclaimed. Snap barked in excitement, and Sam and Dinah waved good-by from the front porch.
Meanwhile, the older children were enjoying their brisk pace on the ice. The wind held steady, filling the sail, but keeping the iceboat’s speed under control. At first Bert and Harry took turns at the rudder, but when the girls wanted to, Bert let each of them steer for a while.
“Oh, this is fun!” Nan exclaimed, her cheeks pink from the wind and her brown hair blowing softly. “I’m so thrilled you two could come with us,” she said, smiling at Dorothy and Harry. “It’s just making a perfect Christmas week.”
“Maybe you think I’m not glad!” Harry cried, and Dorothy agreed enthusiastically.
Soon the conversation turned to the Black Monster and the mystery of Snow Lodge.
“What do you figure it means?” Nan asked.
Harry was inclined to think the two were not connected. Dorothy felt sure the Black Monster business was a gag and they would hear no more about it.
“Danny Rugg could have had somebody else write the note,” she said.
The Bobbsey Twins and the Mystery at Snow Page 6