AN INVITATION
Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Bobbsey thought for a moment that “Baby May,”
as they still called her, was in the box. Still there was certainly
something very queer about the noises that came from the express
package.
“It sure is a baby,” murmured Flossie.
“It’s a queer baby then,” declared Nan. “I can see a lot of green and
red and yellow things, and no baby is that color!”
For by this time her father had removed some of the boards from the
box and a view could be had inside. And, as Nan had said, there was a
glimpse of something red, green, and yellow.
“Maybe Baby May--I mean Baby Jenny--has paint on,” suggested Flossie.
“Ho! Ho!” laughed Freddie. “Who ever heard of painting a baby?”
“My doll has paint on, and she’s a baby,” retorted Flossie. Then the
little girl thought of the present she had bought for her father--the
folding go-cart hidden in the closet under the stairs, and she cried:
“Oh, do please hurry, Daddy! Open your present and then maybe you’ll
get some other presents!”
“Oh, I hardly think so,” replied Mr. Bobbsey, still working away with
the hammer and the screw driver. “I guess this is the only present I’ll
get this birthday. It was very kind of Mr. Watson to remember me!”
Though he said this, Mr. Bobbsey did not really mean that, for well he
knew each of the twins, as well as his wife, would give him something.
They had every year since the two older twins were big enough to know
about birthdays.
But Flossie and Freddie, thinking their father really meant what he
said, burst out eagerly to deny his fear that he was to be forgotten.
“Oh, no, Daddy!” cried Flossie. “You’re going to get another present--a
lovely one!”
“Yes, and another one too, besides that!” added Freddie.
“You don’t mean it!” cried Mr. Bobbsey, pretending to be very much
surprised. “Well! Well! I must hurry and finish opening this box, for,
after I see what is in it, I’ll get the other presents--maybe.”
“You sure will!” chuckled Bert.
“Listen!” whispered Nan.
Again came a low, wailing cry from within the box.
“There!” suddenly cried Mr. Bobbsey. He pried off nearly all of the top
boards and out from the midst of a lot of vegetables jumped--Snoop!
Snoop, the big, black Bobbsey cat!
“Oh!” cried Freddie. “Look at him!”
“Snoop!” shouted Bert.
“How in the world did he get in there?” asked Nan.
But Snoop waved his tail, rubbed up against the legs of fat little
Flossie, and gave voice to a miaowing cry.
“There!” exclaimed Mrs. Bobbsey. “It was Snoop who was crying like a
baby. He was shut up inside that box, and his voice sounded muffled, as
if he were down in the cellar. That’s what made it seem to be a baby’s
cry.”
“But how did Snoop get in the box?” asked Freddie.
Mr. Bobbsey turned the express package over on its side and then it was
seen how Snoop had gotten inside. One of the bottom boards was broken.
There was a hole large enough for the black cat to have crawled inside,
and as Snoop was very like his name, always snooping around in strange
places, that is what he had done. He had crawled in through the hole
and had curled up among a lot of vegetables. Then, when the box was
turned over, so Mr. Bobbsey could read the card, telling whence it
had come, Snoop could not get out. So he had cried mournfully to be
released.
“Oh, it’s a lot of vegetables and berries in the box!” said Nan, as she
took a look, after Snoop had jumped out and the mystery of the “baby’s”
cries had been solved.
“Yes, it’s quite a load of farm and garden produce,” said Mr. Bobbsey.
“Mr. Watson must have a large place at Cloverbank. Here’s a note,” and
he picked up one that was stuck in a bunch of beets.
The note was from Mr. Watson. It contained only a few short lines,
saying:
“Dear Mr. Bobbsey: My wife and I remembered that this was your
birthday, so we send you some of our early vegetables and some
berries. You were so kind to Baby Jenny that we shall never forget
you. You will hear from me again very soon.”
“How kind of him!” murmured Mrs. Bobbsey.
“Did Baby May--I mean Baby Jenny--write a letter?” asked Freddie.
“No, she is hardly old enough,” answered his mother, while Mr. Bobbsey
began lifting out the bunches of early vegetables and the boxes of
berries. It was the green, red, and yellow color of the fruits and
vegetables which the children had glimpsed through cracks in the box.
So quickly had the farm and garden produce come by express that they
were very fresh and good.
“I guess we’ll not have any of these for supper,” announced Mr.
Bobbsey, as he reached down and rubbed Snoop, who was now purring
happily since he was out of the prison into which he had crawled. “And,
speaking of supper, I am ready to eat mine.”
“We’re going to have pie,” declared Bert. “I saw Dinah baking them,
and I guess she made some extra ones on account of your birthday,
Daddy.”
“Did she? That’s nice!” laughed Mr. Bobbsey. “You must have been in the
kitchen to find out about the pies, Bert.”
“Yes, sir, I was,” admitted Bert, with a quick look at Nan. But she
seemed to be thinking of something else.
“Come now, children, we will eat and then we’ll unpack the vegetables
from Cloverbank,” suggested Mrs. Bobbsey. “What a pretty name for a
place,” she went on. “It must be a delightful country up there.”
“I wish we could go to the country again,” said Bert. “School will soon
be over and we’ll have a long vacation.”
“Where are we going this vacation?” asked Nan.
“We haven’t decided yet,” answered her mother. “But come--we shall be
late for supper unless we hurry, and that makes more work for Dinah!”
She led the way to the dining room, with Flossie and Freddie whispering
on the way:
“When can we give Daddy his presents?”
“You might as well get them now, I suppose,” said Mrs. Bobbsey, with
a laugh as she glanced at her husband. “There will be no peace at the
table until you do, and you won’t eat anything until this excitement is
over. Get the presents now!”
“Whoopee!” yelled Bert, who was almost as excited as were the smaller
twins.
“Mine’s in the cellar!” cried Freddie, as he made a dash for the
kitchen.
“Be careful going down the stairs!” warned his mother.
“Mine’s upstairs,” remarked Nan.
“So’s mine!” added Bert, with a quick look at her. “I didn’t see you up
there hiding it, though,” he went on.
“And I didn’t see you,” laughed Nan. “I came in through the kitchen.”
“So’d I!” cried Bert, with a chuckle.
“I did, too!” added Flossie. “And my present’s under the front stairs
in the little dark closet. Don’t you look until I get it for you,
Daddy!” she warned. “Don’t peek, will you?”
“All right, I won’t!” promised Mr. Bobbsey. “See, my eyes are tight
shut--you’ll have to lead me to the table, Mother,” he went on to his
wife.
“Oh, isn’t this fun!” laughed Flossie, as the children scattered to get
the birthday presents from the various hiding places.
“Well, whut’s gwine on now?” demanded Dinah, as she saw Freddie dash
through the kitchen and down the cellar stairs.
“It’s time for the secret!” he breathlessly explained.
“Well, Ah suah am glad ob dat!” chuckled the colored cook. “Mah nice
supper am ’bout ruined wif all dis delay!”
They were soon all gathered about the table, Mr. Bobbsey still with his
eyes tightly shut. One after the other, the twins walked up and put
their presents in front of him. Not until all four packages were there
did Mrs. Bobbsey call:
“Ready! Open your eyes!”
When he opened them and saw the packages, Mr. Bobbsey pretended that he
had suddenly awakened, and was still dreaming. He rubbed his eyes and
said:
“There must be some mistake!”
“What mistake, Daddy?” asked Nan.
“Why, all these presents!” was the answer. “I have only _one_ birthday,
but there are _four_ presents! I’d better send three of them back!”
“No! No!”
“They’re all for you!”
“Every one!”
“They’re all yours--all four!”
Thus cried the Bobbsey twins in joyous excitement. Of course Mr.
Bobbsey knew that all the while; but he did love to tease the twins.
Then he took up first the big bundle which Freddie had hidden down in
the cellar.
“Oh, what lovely flowers!” cried the birthday man. “Oh, how I love
flowers!” and he buried his nose in them.
“I picked ’em--every one!” cried Freddie, in great delight. “And
there’s something else in there, too, Daddy! Down in the bottom! Look!”
“Well, I declare. A baseball! Of all things!” exclaimed Mr. Bobbsey as
he took it out. “That’s just what I’ve been wanting--a baseball so I
could have a little game at noon with the men in the lumberyard. It’s a
fine ball, too--and such a bouncer!” he went on, as he threw it to the
floor and caught it as it rebounded.
“And if you don’t want it--or if you get tired of it,” said Freddie,
“why, you can give it to me. Sammie Shull and I are going to get up a
baseball nine.”
“All right,” his father said. “If I find it’s too small for me and
the men--and it looks as if it might be too small--you may take it,
Freddie.”
“Yes--that’s what I thought,” said the lad, while his father and mother
smiled at each other.
“That’s my present to you,” said Flossie, pointing to the square box
she had hidden in the stair closet. “I hope you’ll like it.”
Mr. Bobbsey took out the folding doll go-cart. First there was a
puzzled look on his face. Then he smiled as he cried:
“Oh, I see, this is a new kind of necktie!”
“No, it isn’t!” protested Flossie.
“Then it must be an umbrella to keep off the rain,” went on the lumber
merchant, pretending to be puzzled about the folding go-cart, though,
all the while, he knew what it was.
“Oh, no, Daddy! ’Tisn’t an umbrella!” cried Flossie. “It’s a little
carriage for my doll. You unfold it and bend out the wheels. Then,
when you take me for a walk and I get tired of carrying my doll, you
can put it in the go-cart and wheel her for me. I think that’s a nice
present for you--isn’t it, Daddy?”
“It’s the most beautiful present I ever got!” declared her father, with
a laugh, “and I’m going to give you a kiss for it. I must also kiss
Freddie for the baseball. That was a fine present, too! That is, unless
my little fireman is too big to be kissed?” and Mr. Bobbsey looked at
Freddie a moment after he had kissed Flossie.
“I don’t mind being kissed--on your birthday,” said the little fellow.
“But not much at other times. I’m getting too big for it.”
“So you are,” said Mr. Bobbsey, with a laugh. “Well, bring in your
doll, Flossie, and let’s see how she fits my new folding birthday
go-cart,” and again Mr. and Mrs. Bobbsey laughed at each other.
The doll had been put in and wheeled about. But there were still two
packages to be opened--those which Nan and Bert had put beside their
father’s plate.
These gifts were not quite as “’riginal” as those Flossie and Freddie
had bought, for the older twins had asked their mother what she
thought their father would like. With the help of her mother Nan had
bought Mr. Bobbsey a bathrobe which, he said, was just what he had long
needed. Bert’s present was a golf sweater which, his father stated, was
just the color he had long been hoping to get.
“This is the best birthday I ever remember!” declared Mr. Bobbsey, when
his wife had presented him with a new wallet in which to carry his
money, cards, and papers. “What with the flowers, the baseball, the
go-cart, the robe, the sweater, the wallet, and the box of fruits and
vegetables from Cloverbank--why, I never got so many things before!”
It was a jolly birthday celebration, and the children talked of little
else while the meal was going on. Presently Nan turned the conversation
another way by asking:
“What do you suppose Mr. Watson meant by saying you would soon hear
from him again, Daddy?”
“I don’t know, my dear, unless he meant that he would write now and
again to let us hear how the baby was getting along,” was the answer.
“You know, we grew very fond of Baby May, as we called her, and your
mother and I did not want to give her up, though of course we had to. I
think Mr. Watson must mean he is going to write again to tell us about
Baby Jenny, as we must learn to call her.”
[Illustration: IT WAS A JOLLY BIRTHDAY CELEBRATION.
_The Bobbsey Twins at Cloverbank._ _Page 36_
]
But a letter came from Cloverbank before any of the Bobbseys thought it
possible to receive one. Just as supper was finished there came a ring
at the doorbell, and Flossie cried:
“Oh, maybe it’s more presents for Daddy’s birthday.”
Instead of an expressman, however, it proved to be a boy from the
post-office with a special delivery letter. These letters come at any
time of the day or night, after the regular mail is delivered.
“A special delivery!” murmured Mrs. Bobbsey, as she saw the blue stamp
with the picture on it of a messenger boy running. “I wonder who it is
from?”
“It’s easy to tell that even without opening it,” said Mr. Bobbsey.
“It’s from Henry Watson of Cloverbank. His name is on the envelope.”
“Oh, he said you’d hear from him again soon, and you have!” cried Nan.
“Do open it, Daddy, and see what it’s about.”
When Mr. Bobbsey read the letter a smile came to his face.
“Well, this seems to settle the summer vacation problem for us,
Mother!” he exclaimed. “This is an invitation from Mr. and Mrs. Watson
and also from Baby May--I mean Baby Jenny--to come and spend the summer
with them at Cloverbank. Among other things, Mr. Watson writes:
“‘Can’t you and the children visit us? Baby “May” would surely love to
see the Bobbsey twins.’”
“Oh, can we go?” chorused the Bobbsey twins.
But before either Mr. or Mrs. Bobbsey could answer there sounded a loud
crash out in the kitchen, and the voice of Dinah cried:
“Dar! Now luck whut yo’ all done! Mah goodness!”