[Transcriber's Note: Bold text is surrounded by =equal signs=
and italic text is surrounded by _underscores_.]
BOBBY IN SEARCH OF A BIRTHDAY
BY
LEBBEUS MITCHELL
[Illustration]
COVER AND ILLUSTRATIONS
BY JOSEPH PIERRE NUYTTENS
[Illustration]
CHICAGO
P. F. VOLLAND & CO.
1916
Copyright 1916
P. F. VOLLAND & CO.
CHICAGO, U. S. A.
All rights reserved
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
Once When Bobby Wasn't Left Behind.
CHAPTER II
The Boy With Eight Birthdays.
CHAPTER III
Hunting for the Thing You Mustn't Think About.
CHAPTER IV
The Lady Who Likes Little Boys.
CHAPTER V
The Man With the Pocketful of Quarters Reappears.
CHAPTER VI
The Borrowed Birthday.
CHAPTER VII
"All the Perquisites Pertaining Thereto."
CHAPTER VIII
"Fathers and Mothers and Things Like That."
[Illustration]
BOBBY IN SEARCH OF A BIRTHDAY
CHAPTER I
ONCE WHEN BOBBY WASN'T LEFT BEHIND
Bobby North went out into the front yard by the iron gate between the
two tall stone columns to watch the horses and wagons and 'mobiles
traveling up and down that invitingly dusty and mysterious road that he
was forbidden ever to set foot upon.
He knew he could crawl under the gate, he was so little, and raise
clouds of dust by dragging his feet in the road as two small boys did
who passed by and stopped to gaze in wonder at Bobby and at the big
brick house set back in the yard among some trees. He wondered if the
Supe'tendent would _really_ send him to bed without anything to eat if
he disobeyed her just this once and slipped under the gate, out into
the road for as many as forty or a dozen minutes.
He was afraid she _really_ might, and was standing with face pressed
against the iron bars of the gate when a man drove up back of him with
a buggy jammed as full as it would hold of boys and girls from the Home.
"Bobby North!" cried the sharp, irritated voice of the Supe'tendent.
"How many times must I tell you to keep away from that gate!"
He turned clear around and saw on the porch the tall, thin figure of
the Supe'tendent. The man in the buggy jumped out to open the gate.
Bobby stepped back from the graveled road, for he knew by experience
that it is always safer, if you are a small boy, to keep out of the way
of grown-up folks--_then_ they can't scold you for doing something you
mustn't, or not doing something you should, even when you had never
_thought_ of doing either one.
He looked up longingly at the buggy load of boys and girls who were
going to explore the mysteries of that delightfully dusty road and not
coming back for maybe forty or a dozen days. Bobby was used to being
left behind and stepped further away, but without taking his lonely
eyes off those more fortunate children.
When the man had opened the gate, he stopped and looked at Bobby and
then at the Supe'tendent on the porch. He came directly towards Bobby
as he kept backing away, caught him up in his arms and tossed him into
the lap of the lady who sat on the front seat!
"You'd like a whole week in the country, too, wouldn't you?" said the
man.
"Yes'm."
Bobby was so surprised that that was all he could think of to say.
"I'm afraid he will be too much trouble for you," called the
Supe'tendent. "He's so young."
Bobby steeled his heart and started to climb down from the lady's lap,
but his lower lip twitched in spite of his effort to keep it steady.
"Nonsense!" exclaimed the man, as he led the horses out into the
road, shut the gate, jumped into the seat by the woman and drove
off in a cloud of dust. He didn't seem to be at all afraid of the
much-to-be-feared Supe'tendent!
Bobby was so glad to be riding away from the Home that he thought he
almost _liked_ the Supe'tendent this once, and looked back and waved
good-bye to her. She stood there stiff and angry and did not reply.
Thus it came about that Bobby North had his first trip away from the
Home that he could remember. The week at Mr. and Mrs. Robert Eller's
in the country was a glorious time--days to be remembered by all the
red letters on the playing blocks that were sometimes given him on a
Sunday to keep him quiet.
Besides the calves and little pigs, the clover field and the daisies in
the yard, there was the two-months' old puppy that Mr. Eller's little
boy told him was a St. Bernard. It soon became the chief delight of
this puppy to chase Bobby about the yard and trip him and then, when he
fell headlong, to lick his hands and face affectionately with a moist,
red tongue. The man never once objected to his playing with the awkward
and much-to-be-desired puppy all day long.
He was an answer to ardent and secret prayer, this Man Who Lets You
Play with the Puppy, and Bobby looked up to him with a great deal of
awe; his words carried the weight of authority. He seemed to understand
what small boys want, to know that the greatest of all treasures, a
real live puppy, is good for them.
Thus the happy days in the country passed like magic.
[Illustration]