AT CLOVERBANK
“Thank goodness, we’re in a dry place!” exclaimed Mrs. Bobbsey with a
sigh of relief, as the car came to a stop within the shelter of the big
barn.
“It doesn’t rain in here, does it?” asked Freddie.
“Of course it doesn’t,” declared Nan, with a laugh.
“It rains on the roof of the barn. I can hear it!” said Flossie.
The children, who had been a bit cramped by the long auto ride and
somewhat wet by the dashing rain, now prepared to get out of the car.
They wanted to watch the storm from the safe shelter of the farm
building.
The two men, who had, it seemed, also taken shelter there from the
downpour, had been looking curiously at the Bobbsey family. Seeing
this, Mr. Bobbsey smiled and said:
“I hope the owner of this barn won’t mind my driving in like this.”
“Oh, no, the owner won’t mind a bit,” answered one of the men, with a
laugh. “You’re perfectly welcome.”
“Do you happen to know the owner?” asked Mrs. Bobbsey.
“Well, yes, I might say I do,” went on the man who had first spoken. “I
know him quite well.”
“I should say you did!” chuckled the other man.
“We are on our way to a place called Cloverbank,” said Mr. Bobbsey. “We
are going to stay there for the summer. I think it is near here.”
“Oh, yes, it’s right near here,” went on the man who had said he knew
the owner of the barn. “In fact, it couldn’t be any closer; could it,
Zeek?” and he nodded to his companion.
“It’s about as close as you can get to it,” declared the other.
Just then Mrs. Bobbsey gave a little cry of delight and exclaimed:
“Oh, now I know you! I was wondering where I had seen you before! You
are Mr. Watson himself!” and she walked forward and held out her hand
to the man who had first spoken.
“Is this Baby May--I mean Baby Jenny’s father?” asked Nan.
“That’s who I am!” was the laughing reply.
“And is this Cloverbank?” demanded Freddie.
“That’s what it is, little man!” said Mr. Watson. “You drove right in
on us. This is one of my barns, and I’m glad Zeek and I had the doors
open so you could roll right in. Welcome to Cloverbank! I wish you
could have arrived in better weather,” he continued, as a vivid flash
of lightning came and a heavy peal of thunder seemed to shake the
ground. “But I think the storm will soon be over.”
“I hope so!” exclaimed Mrs. Bobbsey. “But just fancy us, turning right
in here! It’s remarkable!”
“Zeek and I had to run for it ourselves,” explained Mr. Watson. “I had
left the doors open to dry out some early hay I had hauled in, and
Zeek--his name is Zeek Trimmer and he works for me,” he explained, as
the hired man nodded, “Zeek and I were working around outside, when,
almost before we knew it, the rain came down in bucketfuls. So we had
to run to the barn.”
“And then you folks came along,” added Zeek, who seemed a very pleasant
sort of person. The Bobbsey twins thought they were going to like him
very much.
“I’m very glad to see you again, Mr. Watson,” said Mr. Bobbsey as he
shook hands with the farmer. “I didn’t know you at first. I guess I
must have had some rain in my eyes. How is Mrs. Watson and Baby May--I
mean Baby Jenny? We all have a habit of calling the little girl by the
name we gave her,” he explained.
“That’s all right,” laughed the farmer. “She’s fine, and so is my wife.
They’ll be mighty pleased to see you. We’ll go to the house as soon
as this rain lets up. You can leave your car right here for a while.
Afterward we can run it to the garage. But you’re a little late, aren’t
you?”
“Yes, we were delayed on the road,” explained Mr. Bobbsey, and he told
of the happenings on the trip, how they had had to go back to return
the five kittens, and then how they had had to stay all night at the
lonely cabin.
“Well, we’re glad to see you, anyhow,” returned the farmer. “Zeek
and I will bring your things in,” he went on, as he saw Mrs. Bobbsey
beginning to take articles out of the car.
“I guess I better carry my doll,” explained Flossie. “You might drop
her, Mr. May--I mean Mr. Watson,” she quickly corrected herself.
“All right, little lady!” chuckled Baby Jenny’s father. “I’m used to
carrying my own little girl, and I don’t drop her; but maybe your doll
is so heavy she might slip out of my arms. Though I could wrap her in
a bundle of hay and carry her like that,” he added, as he caught up a
wisp of hay from the barn floor and pretended it was a doll.
“Oh, yes, you could carry her that way,” admitted Flossie. “But I guess
I’d better take her myself--though thank you just the same,” she added
after a moment of thought. Then she took her doll, which her mother
handed out of the car.
“And I’ll take my fire engine,” said Freddie. “That might get smashed.”
He hauled his toy out from amid the valises and packages, and as he set
it on the floor he went on: “It squirts real water, Mr. Watson, and if
your barn gets on fire I can help put it out for you.”
“That’s right kind of you,” said the farmer, trying not to laugh, for
Freddie was very much in earnest. “I hope my barn won’t get on fire,
though.”
Just then came a tremendous crash of thunder, following closely after a
bright glare of lightning.
Mr. Watson went over near Zeek Trimmer, who stood just inside the door,
to look out and see if the lightning had done any damage to his farm
buildings or the house, which the children could see through the rain,
a short distance away.
“I guess that was the last crack, and the worst,” said the farmer. “It
will stop in a little while, and then we can go to the house. Mrs.
Watson has been expecting you, but she never thought you would come in
a downpour like this.”
While the older folks stood in the middle of the barn floor, talking,
the children wandered about the big barn. They always liked to come to
the country, especially to a farm, for there were so many strange bits
of machinery to see and so many things to do about a barn.
“Mr. Watson! Mr. Watson!” called Freddie, who had put his toy fire
engine down in what he thought a safe place.
“Yes, little man, what is it?” asked the farmer.
“Could we please slide down on your hay--I mean Flossie and I?” Freddie
asked. “We like to slide on hay, and we haven’t done it for a long
time.”
“Slide all you like,” Mr. Watson kindly gave permission. “That is, if
your mother says so,” he added, with a look at Mrs. Bobbsey.
“I guess they won’t get hurt,” she remarked.
“Well, they can’t harm the hay!” chuckled Zeek.
So the two smaller twins, with shouts of delight, climbed up in the
haymow where there were great piles of the dried, sweet-smelling grass
which the horses, cows, and sheep would eat when winter came, and when
there was no longer green fodder in the fields.
Bert and Nan thought themselves a little too old for this kind of
fun--at least, when there were older folks around. Though undoubtedly
if just the four twins had been in the barn, the two larger ones would
have enjoyed doing what Flossie and Freddie were doing.
These two scrambled up to the highest point of one of the hay piles and
then slid down, the hay being almost as slippery as a hill covered with
snow.
Bert and Nan wandered about the barn, looking at the different things.
Bert wished there were some horses he might view, but the farm animals
were kept in another building, this large one being used for the
storage of hay and other crops.
Presently Nan, who was peering about along the edge of the hay mow,
gave an exclamation of surprise.
“What’s the matter?” asked Bert.
“Look!” whispered Nan, pointing down through a small opening in the
floor. “There’s a hen on her nest. Maybe she’s laying an egg!”
“Maybe,” agreed Bert. “If she is we mustn’t disturb her.”
But the hen was already disturbed, for she looked up and saw the
children and then, with a loud cackle, she fluttered off the nest and
ran across the barn floor.
“Oh, I didn’t mean to scare her!” murmured Nan.
“You didn’t do any harm,” said Mr. Watson, with a laugh. “That’s Old
Speck, as we call her. She always steals away to make a nest for
herself, lays a lot of eggs in it and then hatches out a brood of
chickens. I’ve been trying for a week to find her nest. Show me where
it is. Are there any eggs in it?”
“Oh, a lot of them!” cried Nan.
“About a dozen,” reported Bert.
“Then she’s getting ready to hatch out a family of little chickens,”
Mr. Watson said. “I’ll be on the watch for them, now that I know where
she has hidden her nest. It’s queer you found it so soon, Nan, when
I’ve been looking for it a week and couldn’t find it.”
“I guess maybe the wind blew away some hay that was over the top, and
that’s why I saw her,” explained the little girl, and this seemed to
be about the way of it.
“Well, I’ll put a board over the hole from the top, so she won’t be
disturbed again,” Mr. Watson said. “Get a board, Zeek. Old Speck must
crawl in under the barn to get on her nest, so the board won’t shut her
out.”
The rain was lessening now, and the lightning was not so sharp nor the
thunder so loud. All signs pointed to a clearing off of the storm.
Meanwhile, Flossie and Freddie were having fun in the hay until, all of
a sudden, Flossie gave a scream of excitement and cried:
“There! Now look, Freddie Bobbsey, what you did! You’ve killed her!”
“Gracious!” cried Mrs. Bobbsey. “I hope Freddie didn’t slide down on
the hen,” for Nan had told about finding Old Speck.
“He slid right on my doll, that’s what he did!” cried Flossie. “He slid
on her, and he sat on her, and he’s killed her! Oh, dear!”
She was about ready to burst into tears, but Nan, running to Freddie,
who sat on the barn floor in some hay which had slid with him off the
big pile, picked up Flossie’s doll and called out:
“She isn’t hurt a bit! See! She’s all right, Flossie!”
“Will her eyes open and shut?” asked the little girl.
“Surely they open and shut,” reported Nan, tilting the doll backward
and then forward, which caused the blue eyes to close and then to open.
“Well, then, I guess she’s all right,” Flossie agreed, choking back her
tears. “But you oughtn’t to have sat on her, Freddie Bobbsey!”
“How could I help it?” Freddie asked. “I didn’t mean to do it! I just
slid with a lot of hay. I didn’t know you had put your doll down there.”
“Well, I had,” Flossie said. “But I’m glad you didn’t mean to hurt her.
I guess we’ve had enough of hay-sliding, anyhow.”
“I guess so, too,” agreed Freddie. “Anyhow, the sun is shining now and
we can go to the house. I want to see the clover bank.”
“And I want to see the baby,” added Flossie.
The storm, indeed, had ended and the weather was clearing. With Mr.
Watson, Zeek, and Mr. Bobbsey carrying the baggage, and the children
taking their toys and playthings, the party moved on toward the big
farmhouse. On the porch stood Mrs. Watson.
“Well, of all things!” she cried, as she caught sight of the Bobbsey
family. “How did you folks get here?”
“We came in the storm and drove right into your barn, not knowing whose
it was,” explained Mrs. Bobbsey.
“How glad I am to see you!” went on Mrs. Watson, as the children and
the others trooped up the front steps. “We have been expecting you--in
fact, we looked for you yesterday.”
“And we would have been here then, only for the many things that
happened,” explained Mr. Bobbsey. “It is very kind of you and your
husband to ask this whole family out here for the summer.”
“We’re glad to have you,” said Mrs. Watson.
“Where’s the baby?” asked Nan.
“You mean Jenny?” asked the mother. “Oh, she’s in the house. She’s
grown so you will hardly know her,” she went on proudly.
“Can she talk?” Freddie wanted to know.
“A little, yes, my dear,” was the answer.
“Can she walk?” was Flossie’s question.
“She’s just beginning to, yes. And that reminds me. She may get up and
walk into some mischief now. I hardly dare leave her alone, she is so
active, Mrs. Bobbsey. You’d hardly believe the----”
But Mrs. Watson did not finish what she was saying. She was interrupted
by a loud noise from within the house. Instantly she turned and ran
inside, crying:
“Oh, Baby! Baby! What have you done now?”