TIM ROON IS FOUND OUT
Bobby continued to stand over Charlie Black, ready to pounce on him
should he try to jump and run.
"Honest, Bobby," Charlie whined again. "I'll tell you who spoiled the
book."
"Well, who did?" demanded Bobby gruffly.
"You won't hit me? Promise," said Charlie, very much frightened.
"All right, I won't hit you," promised Bobby. "Who did it? You?"
Charlie Black scrambled to his feet.
"I'll get killed if I'm found out," he declared, "but Tim Roon did it,
Bobby. I saw him. He spilled ink all over it, 'cause he was sore at
Miss Mason. An' he wouldn't let me tell."
Bobby and Meg were so excited that they hardly knew when Charlie Black
skated away, after insisting that Tim Roon would certainly murder him
if he ever discovered that he had told the secret.
"Tell? Of course we'll tell everybody," said Meg, dancing along beside
Bobby, who had taken the box from her again. "Oh, hurry up, Bobby.
You're so slow, and we must let Mother know."
At home the news was received with great rejoicing, and the twins had
to relieve their feelings by banging on the dining-room gong till
Norah descended on them and confiscated the padded stick. But Bobby
was rather sober through all the noise, and presently Mother Blossom
perceived this.
"I don't think it's fair to tell," said Bobby, when she questioned
him. "I'll get Tim Roon into trouble, and Charlie Black, too. Course
I'd like Miss Mason to know I didn't do it, but I hate to make such a
fuss."
"Isn't he silly, Mother?" demanded Meg. "If you don't tell, Bobby
Blossom, I'm going to school before you're up and tell every one I
meet."
"Now, Meg!" remonstrated Mother Blossom. "This is Bobby's affair,
remember. But, Son, you shouldn't feel as you do. Every one who
heard that you were accused of spoiling the book has a right to know
that you have been absolved. I will write Miss Mason a note and
explain it fully, and then Tim and Charlie will have to take the
consequences. Any boy that will stand aside and let another be
unjustly accused deserves whatever he gets."
Mother Blossom's cheeks were quite pink and her blue eyes had little
sparks in them, just as Bobby's did sometimes when he was angry.
"Mother is right," declared Father Blossom, who had come home early
and had heard the story from Aunt Polly, Meg, the twins, and Norah
before he had taken off his overcoat. "Don't fret about Tim and
Charlie--those young scamps need a couple of interviews with Mr.
Carter if they are not to grow up utterly reckless."
So the next morning Bobby carried a note to Miss Mason, and when she
had read it she actually hugged him and begged his pardon as simply as
if he had been a grown-up friend. She wanted to tell the whole class
how mistaken she had been, but Bobby nearly fainted at the thought
and begged her not to.
"I'll tell them one by one, then," announced Miss Mason, who, it
seemed, could not do enough to make up for her unkindness.
Before the morning session was called nearly every child in the room
knew that Bobby Blossom had not touched Miss Mason's book but that Tim
Roon was the culprit. Tim and Charlie had been sent down to the
principal's office by Miss Mason before assembly, and Miss Wright had
telephoned for Mr. Carter. He came over at once, and Tim and Charlie
spent an unhappy hour with him.
"You're both cowards," he told them hotly. "I'd have you up before the
class to confess your underhanded scheme if I didn't know that it
would embarrass Bobby more than it would you. The school law won't let
me keep you longer than an hour at night, but every night for a month
you'll stay an hour after school. And, Tim, here's a note for your
father. Don't try to get out of delivering it. I'll call him up at
six o'clock to-night and ask if he has received it."
Tim gave his father the note that night, and something very serious
happened to him. More than that, he had to work every Saturday for a
long, long time in his father's store to help pay the money his father
insisted on sending to Miss Mason. Of course it was impossible to
replace the book, for the autographs could never be collected again,
but Mr. Roon was determined to pay Miss Mason the sum her friend had
spent for the book. It was a great deal of money, but "the Roons
always pay up," declared Mr. Roon, "and if it takes Tim the rest of
his lazy life, he's got to work out the money."
Soon every one but Tim forgot the book, for the Thanksgiving Day
exercises were drawing nearer and nearer. The Blossoms always had
wonderful times Thanksgivings, and this year, with Aunt Polly with
them, they meant to have the best holiday yet.
Such boxes and barrels as came down from Brookside Farm, packed by Jud
and his father, and reminding the four little Blossoms of the good
times they had had that summer. There were red apples and green
apples, yellow pumpkins, potatoes, turnips and beautiful crisp celery,
black walnuts and butternuts, wonderful for cake and candy and what
Dot called "plain eating," and, most wonderful of all, two great plump
turkeys.
"Those are some you saw running around, Twaddles," Aunt Polly told him
as he helped her unpack the box. "Remember how they looked? You
thought they were chickens."
The morning before Thanksgiving Day fresh eggs and butter came by
parcels post.
"If you'd only sent a tablecloth and a few forks, Polly," laughed
Mother Blossom, "I shouldn't have had a thing to do about getting
dinner."
Meg and Bobby couldn't think much about the dinner. Wasn't this the
day they were to recite?
"Wouldn't it be too awful," said Meg, at the breakfast table, "if when
I got up on the platform I should forget every word?"
"But you won't," Mother Blossom assured her. "You'll remember every
word. See if you don't. You come home to lunch, don't you, children,
and get dressed?"
"Yes. And then we have to be back by half-past one," said Bobby
importantly. "The exercises begin at two. Where's my bag of apples?"
The children of the Oak Hill school every year brought gifts of food
to the Thanksgiving Day exercises which were afterward distributed
among the poor families of the town. Bobby took apples this year and
Meg was to take two jars of home-made preserves.
They hurried through the morning at school, rushed home and found a
devoted family on hand to help them dress.
"There were such lots of things brought," chattered Meg, as her mother
buttoned her into the new white frock and Aunt Polly tied her
hair-ribbon. "They liked your potatoes, Dot."
"And my popcorn?" asked Twaddles anxiously.
The twins, not to be cheated out of the fun, had insisted on sending
Thanksgiving gifts, too.
"Yes, they thought that was great," said Bobby, shining and neat in
his new suit. "Hurry, Meg."
"Come early and get good seats," called Meg as they trotted off.
At exactly two o'clock the whole school marched into the assembly room
and took the seats reserved for them. The first and second grades were
seated on the platform, because experience had taught the teachers
that some of the younger children invariably fell either up or down
the platform steps if they had anything at all to do with them. On one
side of the platform the school committee sat, headed by Rufus
Hornbeck.
Bobby's recitation followed the first song, and he and the five boys
with him breathed a great sigh of relief when they were through and
went back to their seats free to enjoy the rest of the afternoon.
Then came more songs and more recitations, and then finally it was
Meg's turn. She had discovered where her father and mother and Aunt
Polly and the twins were sitting, and when she came out to speak she
looked straight at them and smiled. And the five verses were as
straight and clear in her mind as though she were reciting them to
Mother Blossom in the sitting room at home.
"What a dear little girl, and what a pretty dress!" said an old lady
sitting back of the Blossoms, as Meg made her little bow at the end
and the room broke into hearty applause.
Twaddles turned around to beam approvingly at the old lady.
"That's my sister," he informed her.
Rufus Hornbeck and two others of the committee had to make rather
long, tiresome speeches, and when that was over the audience joined in
singing "My Country, 'tis of thee," and the exercises were over.
"Oh, look!" exclaimed Bobby, as they opened the school door and
stepped out into the street.
It was almost dark, for the days were fast shortening, and a fine,
light snow was falling softly. Already the ground and walks were
white, and the fences were taking queer shapes.
"Snow!" chorused the four little Blossoms in ecstasy. "Let's ask Sam
to mend the sleds to-night."
The snow fell all that night and all the next day and people said it
was an old-fashioned white Thanksgiving. An old-fashioned white winter
it proved to be, too, and if you want to hear what fun the four little
Blossoms had playing in the white snow, you will have to read the next
book about them, called "Four Little Blossoms and Their Winter Fun."
"If we only had new sleds," sighed Bobby. The sleds they had were
somewhat old and broken.
"We might get new ones," said Meg hopefully.
"I'm going to learn to skate this winter," remarked Twaddles.
"So am I," added his twin.
And here, for a time, we will leave the four little Blossoms and say
good-by.