LUMBAGO
“Come on in and shut the door,” said Nan before she took time to answer
her brother’s question about what had caused Dinah to go away. “Mrs.
Pry doesn’t like the cold. We must keep the house warm for her, she
says.”
“’Tisn’t cold!” declared Bert, whose cheeks were rosy red from having
been playing in the snow. But he hurried in, closed the door, and then,
turning to Nan, while he listened to the voices of Freddie and Flossie
having one of their endless disputes in the playroom, the lad asked:
“What happened to Dinah? What made her go away?”
“It’s on account of Sam,” answered Nan.
“Do you mean Sam came back and took Dinah away?”
“Oh, no, Sam didn’t come back,” went on Nan. “That’s the reason Dinah
had to go--because Sam didn’t come back.”
“Say!” cried Bert with a little laugh, though he could see by the look
on his sister’s face that she did not feel very jolly, “this is like
one of the puzzles Charlie Mason asks. Where in the world is Dinah,
anyhow?”
“She had to go down South--I don’t remember just where--to look after
Sam,” explained Nan. “Something has happened to him--he’s sick, or
something--and a telegram came for Dinah. She must have got it while we
were at school, for when I got home, and I came ahead of you, I found
Mrs. Pry all excited and Dinah was packed up, all ready to go. She
wanted to wait until you got back, to tell you good-bye, but I told her
to go, or else she’d miss her train.”
“That’s right,” agreed Bert. “But how did she know Sam was sick? Who
told her?”
“A telegram came, I told you.”
“Oh, that’s so--you did. So many things are happening that I forget
about some of them. But did Dinah have to walk to the station and carry
her bag? I wish I’d been here--I’d ’a’ carried it for her.”
“She didn’t have to walk,” explained Nan. “Just before it was time for
her to go Mr. Batten called up from the lumber office. Daddy left word
before he and mother went to Uncle Rossiter’s that Mr. Batten was to
call up every day and find out if we were all right.
“So when Mr. Batten called, I told him about Dinah having to go down
South where her husband, Sam, was sick, and Mr. Batten said he’d have
one of the men stop around in an auto and take her to the station, and
he did. So Dinah went down in style all right.”
“I’m glad of that,” Bert said. “But say, Nan, we’re almost all alone,
aren’t we?”
“Yes, only Mrs. Pry left to keep house for us.”
“Oh, I guess we could keep house all by ourselves if we had to,” Bert
said. “Don’t you think so, Nan?”
“I guess so. But is your head all right now, Bert?”
“Oh, yes, it doesn’t hurt at all.”
“Why do you s’pose it was that Danny Rugg went into the church?”
“I don’t know,” answered Bert, as he thought the matter over for a
second or two. “Maybe he went in to see if he could mend the broken
window so he wouldn’t have to pay for it.”
“How could he mend a broken window, Bert? It’s got all different
colored pieces of glass in it. Danny couldn’t mend it, even if he could
find all the bits of broken glass. They wouldn’t stick together.”
“No, I guess that’s right. Well, I don’t know why Danny went in. But if
he goes again maybe I’ll find out next time.”
By this time the voices of Flossie and Freddie had become high and
shrill. They were evidently having trouble of some kind. And as Bert
and Nan stood talking in the hall, Mrs. Pry was heard to say:
“Freddie! Freddie! Stop that!”
Then Flossie’s voice joined in with:
“Give me my doll, Freddie Bobbsey! Give me my doll else I’ll tell
mother on you.”
“Mother isn’t at home, so you can’t tell her!” taunted Freddie.
“Well, I’ll tell her when she does come home. Give me my doll!”
“I guess we’d better go see what it is,” suggested Nan.
“Yes,” agreed Bert. “Dinah could make Flossie and Freddie mind better
than Mrs. Pry can. But Dinah isn’t here, so we’ll have to do it.”
The two older Bobbsey twins hurried up to the playroom on the second
floor. There they saw Mrs. Pry standing in the middle of the carpet,
looking helplessly at Flossie and Freddie. The little girl was trying
to pull one of her dolls away from her brother, who held on to it with
all his might.
“Here, Freddie, you let go of Flossie’s doll!” ordered Bert.
“Yes, make him give her to me!” begged Flossie.
“Shame on you, Freddie Bobbsey!” cried Nan. “Why do you want to tease
your sister--and you’re a big boy? Daddy used to call you his fireman,
but he wouldn’t call you that now!”
“Oh, well, I wasn’t going to hurt her old doll,” answered Freddie, as
he slowly let go his hold on the doll’s legs. Nan’s appeal to him,
and the mention of “fireman,” which was his father’s pet name for the
little chap, made Freddie feel a bit ashamed of himself. “I wasn’t
going to hurt the doll,” he said.
“Oh, he was too!” cried Flossie. “He was going to make her stand on her
head.”
“Well, that wouldn’t hurt her,” Freddie answered, with a laugh.
“It would so!” declared Flossie. “Once I stood on my head and it may
me feel funny and my face got red and Dinah said the blood would come
out of my ears if I didn’t stand up straight, so I did. I don’t want my
doll to have blood come out of her ears.”
“I don’t believe that would happen,” said Nan. “But Freddie should
leave your doll alone and play with his own things. Now don’t tease
Flossie any more.”
“All right, I won’t,” Freddie promised, for he was not a bad little
fellow, only mischievous at times. And so was Flossie, for that matter.
She wasn’t a bit better than Freddie. Being twins, they were much alike
in many things.
“I’ve been trying to keep peace between them, but I don’t seem to know
how to do it,” sighed Mrs. Pry. “I hope now, with Dinah and Sam gone,
as well as your father and mother, that you will be good children,” she
added.
“I think they will,” said Nan.
“What’s that? You’re going to take them out on the hill?” cried the
old lady. “Oh, I wouldn’t do that! Don’t take them coasting now. It’s
almost dark and supper is nearly ready.”
“I didn’t say I’d taken them to the hill,” answered Nan. “I said they
will be good children now.”
“Oh, yes! Well, I’m sure I hope so,” sighed Aunt Sallie Pry. “I must
see the doctor about my ears,” she went on. “I can’t hear half as good
as I could five years ago, or else people don’t speak as plainly as
they used to. Well, now that Bert is home, we’ll have supper. Oh, dear,
I hope we don’t get any more snow.”
“When’s Dinah coming back?” asked Freddie, as he came out of the
bathroom, where he washed his hands ready for the meal.
“Oh, pretty soon, I guess,” answered Nan.
“When are mother and daddy coming back?” Flossie wanted to know.
“Well, I guess they’ll come home pretty soon, too,” said Bert, with
a look at his sister. A little later, while Flossie and Freddie were
taking their places at the table, Bert whispered to Nan: “Don’t you
think it’s queer we haven’t had a letter from mother since she went
away?”
“Yes, it is queer,” agreed Nan. “I wish we’d get some news. But maybe
Uncle Rossiter is too sick for them to have time to write.”
“Well, couldn’t they send a telegram?” Bert inquired.
“Maybe they thought a telegram would scare us,” suggested Nan. “Dinah
was frightened when that one came about Sam.”
“That’s so,” agreed her brother. “I guess maybe that’s why mother
didn’t telegraph us.”
“Or maybe the snow’s so deep where they are that the mail can’t get
through,” went on Nan. “Lots of times, in winter, they can’t deliver
the mail on account of snow.”
“That’s right,” said Bert. “I guess maybe they’re all right. Anyhow,
there’s no good of worrying. And we’ll have fun keeping house by
ourselves, won’t we?”
“Lots of fun,” agreed Nan.
However, a little later, it did not seem quite so much fun, for
something happened that would not have happened, very likely, if Mrs.
Bobbsey had been at home.
With Dinah away, it made more work for Mrs. Pry, who got the evening
meal, though Nan and Bert helped all they could. They knew how to do
many things about the kitchen and the dining room, for their mother had
allowed them to help Dinah so they would have good training.
It happened that when Mrs. Pry was coming from the kitchen with a plate
of slices of bread, Flossie saw her. All at once it entered into the
mind of the little girl that she ought to help, as she had seen Nan
doing. So, climbing down out of her chair, Flossie, with the kindest
heart in the world, ran to Mrs. Pry, calling:
“I’ll help you, Aunt Sallie! Let me help! I’ll carry the plate of bread
for you.”
“No, no, my dear!” objected the old lady. “You might spill the bread
off the plate.”
“Oh, no I won’t!” cried Flossie.
“If she spills the bread, that wouldn’t break,” laughed Freddie.
“No, but she might drop the plate, and that would crack,” Nan said.
“Flossie, dear, go back to your place!”
But Flossie did not want to do this. She had made up her mind to help
about the meal in some way. So she reached up to take the plate away
from Mrs. Pry, and the old lady, naturally, held the plate out of
Flossie’s grasp.
“I’ll jump up and get it!” the little girl cried. “Mother said I was
to be good and help Dinah all I could. And now Dinah’s gone, I’ll help
you, Aunt Sallie!”
“But I don’t need to be helped, my dear,” said Mrs. Pry. “I can carry
this plate of bread.”
“Oh, let me do it!” begged Flossie.
Her first jump was not quite high enough, so she leaped a second time,
and, though Mrs. Pry held the plate above Flossie’s head, the little
girl got hold of it. She pulled it from the old lady’s hands, but,
instead of keeping hold of it herself, Flossie let it slip from her
fingers.
Down fell the plate of bread to the floor. The slices tumbled off and
the plate itself was broken in three pieces.
“Oh, now you’ve done it!” cried Freddie. “Oh, look what Flossie did!
She broke a plate! Flossie broke a plate! Flossie broke a plate!” he
cried in a sing-song voice.
Flossie looked at the damage she had done and then her lips began to
quiver, her eyes filled with tears, and a moment later she burst out
crying.
“Oh, don’t tell mother!” she begged. “Don’t tell mother! I didn’t mean
to break the plate! I wanted to help!”
“Don’t cry, my dear,” said Aunt Sallie kindly. “Of course you didn’t
mean to do it. It’s all right. I guess it was only an old plate.”
“The bread didn’t bust, anyhow,” observed Freddie. “I can pick that up
and we can eat it!”
“Freddie Bobbsey, you stay right in your chair!” cried Nan. “Something
else will happen if you get down. And, Flossie, never mind. You can
help with something else. Go to your chair and we’ll eat.”
Bert picked up the pieces of plate while Nan gathered up the bread.
Luckily the slices had fallen in the same sort of pile that Mrs. Pry
had put them in on the plate, and only the bottom slice had to be laid
aside because there might be dirt on it from the rug.
“I’ll feed that to the birds to-morrow,” said Bert, as he laid this
slice aside.
Flossie stopped her crying and soon supper was going on merrily--that
is, as merrily as was possible when the Bobbsey twins were without
father, mother, Dinah and Sam.
Mrs. Pry did her best, and though she misunderstood a number of things
that were said, on account of not hearing well, the children did not
laugh at her. They felt sorry for the old lady.
Nan helped clear away the supper dishes, with Bert lending a hand
now and then. Flossie and Freddie, forgetting all about their little
dispute, played together until it was time for them to go to bed.
Bert and Nan did their studying for the next day, and then Bert went
about locking the doors and windows, Mrs. Pry telling him to be
especially careful.
“For burglars might come in, now that we’re more alone than ever
before,” said the old lady.
“Do the burglars know we’re alone?” asked Bert, grinning at his sister,
for neither of them felt any fears.
“They might. You never can tell,” answered Mrs. Pry. “Anyhow, don’t
leave any doors open.”
And of course Bert would not do that.
Just before he and Nan went up to their rooms, Bert went to the front
door to look out.
“Is the weather doing anything?” Nan asked.
“It feels like snow,” Bert answered. “It’s cold and sharp out, and it’s
cloudy. Maybe it’ll snow to-morrow. I hope it does.”
“I don’t,” Nan said.
“Why not?” her brother wanted to know.
“Because if it does maybe we’ll not get a letter from mother or daddy
for a long time. Maybe they’re snowed-up now and if it storms again
they’ll be snowed-up worse. I don’t want any more.”
“Well, maybe it’ll come anyhow,” Bert said with a laugh, as he closed
and locked the door.
The children were soon sound asleep and were not disturbed during the
night. Even Flossie did not wake up as usual and want Nan to get her a
drink.
Nan awakened first the next morning. She looked at a little clock on
her bureau and was surprised to note that it was half past eight.
“Oh, we’ll be late for school!” she cried, jumping out of bed. “Mrs.
Pry must have forgotten to call us. Oh, dear!”
Nan hurried about, putting on her gown and slippers, to go and call
Bert and also to arouse Freddie. Flossie had opened her eyes when she
heard Nan moving. Then a voice from Mrs. Pry’s room said:
“Nan! Nan, dear!”
“Yes, Aunt Sallie, what is it?” asked Nan. “Are you sick?” The old
lady’s voice sounded different, somehow.
“Yes, Nan, I’m afraid I’m sick,” was the answer. “That’s why I wasn’t
able to get down and cook the breakfast. The lumbago has hold of me in
the back. The lumbago has gotten a bad hold of me. Oh, dear!”
While Nan stood in the middle of the floor, hardly knowing what to do,
Flossie burst into tears.