A BIG SPLASH
Bert Bobbsey was speaking his piece so well that his teacher and the
other boys and girls did not see what Sam Todd was trying to do. The
eyes of all in the room were fixed on Bert—that is, the eyes of all but
Sam and his chum Joe. Bert had practiced his recitation many times at
home, his mother helping and correcting him, until he could do it very
well.
All this mattered nothing to Sam, however, if he could spoil Bert’s
recitation by playing the trick. With all that, Sam did not intend to be
mean. It was all just a “good joke” to him and Joe.
But, as was said, something went wrong.
When Sam pulled on the string it seemed to be caught on something
outside the window. The football with its feathers, making it look like
the head of an Indian, did not bounce in through the open window, as Sam
hoped it would.
There was no time to lose. Bert was just beginning the startling line—
“What is this fearful thing I see?”
If the football did not pop in now the joke would be spoiled. As all
eyes were on Bert, Sam felt it would be safe to leave his seat to look
and find out what the trouble was. He had a little time, as Bert had to
say this line three times—slowly.
Bert gave the line once. He paused. He repeated it. Sam was now leaning
over the edge of the window sill, looking down to see what was holding
the string of the feather-decorated football.
Then Bert exclaimed, very loudly:
“What is this fearful thing I see?”
As he did so, Sam Todd lost his balance and fell out of the window. But
that was not all! Just under the window was a big barrel of water, that
had been used by masons when they had done some work on the school
foundation.
With a splash and a cry of surprise, Sam Todd toppled into this barrel
of water, his shout of alarm mingling with Bert’s dramatic demand to
know what fearful thing it was that he saw.
“Oh, dear, look at that!”
“Sammie’s out of the window!”
“He’s in the water!”
“He’ll be drowned!”
“What was he doing anyway?”
And so the cries of the children ran on.
Well, of course that brought Bert’s recitation to a sudden end. No boy
could speak a piece with another lad falling out of the window into a
barrel of water and yelling at the same time.
“What is it? What has happened?” exclaimed Miss Riker, leaping to her
feet.
“Sammie Todd fell out of the window,” answered Sadie Moore, who was a
quick little thing.
“What in the world was he doing? Why was he leaning out of the window in
that way?” demanded Miss Riker, for she had seen Sam at the sill just
before he fell.
“He wanted to—he was going to—” began Joe Norton. Then Joe happened to
think it was hardly the fair thing to tell on Sam—to let the teacher
know about the joke. She might find out, anyhow—very likely she
would—but Joe could not tell.
“What was Sam going to do?” demanded Miss Riker. But no one answered
her, and from outside the window sounded the splashing in the barrel of
water and the voice of Sam begging for help.
“We must go to him. Maybe he is hurt,” the teacher said, starting for
the door.
But Bert was ahead of her. He did not much mind having his recitation
broken up in this queer way. As a matter of fact, Bert only laughed
about it afterward.
But now Sam might be in danger, through his own foolishness, and might
need help. So Bert and some of the other boys rushed out of school ahead
of the teacher. These boys, too, rather welcomed the interruption. They
did not care much about “speaking pieces.”
As Bert and his chums reached the school yard under the open window,
they saw Sam, dripping wet and covered with bits of lime and plaster,
climbing from the barrel of water.
“I—I—now—I fell in!” spluttered Sam, as if there was any need of an
explanation. “I—I—now—fell right in!”
“I should say you did!” laughed Bert. He could laugh now, and so could
the other boys, for Sam was not in the least hurt.
Sam balanced himself for a moment on the edge of the barrel and then
slipped down and out, over the edge. The water ran from him and made
little puddles around his feet.
“How did it happen? Are you sure you aren’t hurt?” asked Miss Riker.
Sam did not answer the first question, but to the second he replied.
“Oh, no’m—thank you—I’m not hurt. I—I’m just—wet!”
“Yes, we see you are,” observed Miss Riker, trying not to smile, for by
this time she began to suspect that something was wrong. No boy sitting
in his seat in a quiet schoolroom, where “speaking pieces” is going on,
can fall out of the window and into a barrel of water without having
done something himself to bring it about.
Once it was certain that Sam had suffered no more than a wetting, the
teacher began to cast about to find an explanation. Her quick eye caught
sight of the string running in through the open window to the
schoolroom. Stepping to the window she looked inside and saw that the
string was fastened to Sam’s desk.
Another look, on the ground near the barrel, disclosed the football and
the feathers on it. Then she understood.
“Oh, I see,” she murmured. “This was a sort of—joke, Sam? Was that it?”
“Ye—ye—yes’m,” faltered the dripping lad.
“Very well. You may go back to your seats, children—that is, all but
Sam. You had better go home and change into dry clothes,” she added, and
this time she smiled broadly.
“Shall I—now—shall I come back?” asked Sam. All the joking spirit had
departed.
“No, you don’t need to come back,” said Miss Riker. “School will be out
for the term by the time you could return.” And as Sam, rather
shame-faced, made his dripping way toward his home, the teacher
remarked: “I hardly think it worth while to go on with the closing
exercises. They were almost finished, anyhow. Unless, Bert, you wish to
conclude your recitation?” she added, turning to the Bobbsey twin
questioningly.
“Oh, no’m—thank you—I don’t mind quitting!” Bert made haste to say. He
did not exactly object to “speaking pieces,” but if there was a good
excuse to get out of it, he was glad of that excuse. “I can recite it
next term,” he added.
“Yes, I suppose so,” returned Miss Riker, with a laugh. “Well, boys and
girls, you may go now. School is over for the term. I hope you’ll all
have a happy vacation.”
“Thank you! Thank you! The same to you!” chorused the boys and girls.
There were murmurs, talks, laughter and a general movement of relief. No
more books or studies for more than two months—oh, joy!
Some of the pupils returned to the classroom to get things from their
desks. Charlie Mason was beside Bert as the two boys walked over to the
water barrel to look more closely at the “joke.”
“Say, Bert, I’m glad you said you didn’t care about going on with your
piece,” said Charlie.
“Why?” asked Bert.
“’Cause I was after you, and I didn’t know my piece very well. There’s
one verse I never can remember, and I know I’d have broken down up on
the platform. So I’m glad I didn’t have to speak.”
“So’m I,” murmured Bert. “Say, what is that thing, anyhow?” he asked, as
Joe Norton pulled into view the “joke” Sam Todd had prepared with such
care.
“Looks like a scalped Indian,” remarked Danny Rugg.
“That’s what Sam made it for,” chuckled Joe. “He was going to pull it in
when you said that line, Bert, about what a fearful thing you saw.”
“Ha! Ha!” laughed Bert. “He was going to pull it in, was he? Well, he
pulled himself _out_ instead! It was a good joke all right!”
And so it was, only it turned just the other way from what Sam intended.
But very often jokes do turn that way.
However, nothing much now mattered except that school was out for the
long vacation.
“Where are you going for your vacation?” asked May Miller of Nan
Bobbsey, as she walked home with Flossie and Freddie. Bert had gone on
ahead with some of the boys.
“We don’t exactly know,” Nan replied. “Since we have Baby May with us,
mother and daddy haven’t made up their minds. I guess we’ll go away
somewhere.”
“We’re going to the seashore,” said May.
“We’ve been there—lots of times,” Nan said.
“I like the seashore!” murmured Flossie. “We went there and played in
the sand.”
“And Flossie fell into the water!” added Freddie, anxious to tell all
the news.
“So did you fall in, too!” countered Flossie.
“Yes, we both fell in!” laughed her twin brother, shaking his head of
golden hair. “It was lots of fun.”
“Well, I want to go swimming in the ocean,” said May, laughing at the
smaller Bobbsey twins, “but I don’t exactly want to fall in. I suppose
Baby May is too young to be taken to the seashore,” she added, for by
this time every one in Lakeport knew about the little foundling who had
been left on the Bobbsey doorstep.
“Yes, I suppose so,” agreed Nan. “But we’ll go away somewhere, I’m sure.
Good-bye, May!”
“Good-bye,” May answered, as she turned down her street.
“I’m going to ask mother if I can wheel Baby May out in the baby
carriage,” said Flossie, as she and her sister and brother neared home.
“You’ll have to be very careful, and stay right in front of the house,”
cautioned Nan. “We don’t want any more runaways.”
“I’ll be careful,” promised Flossie.
But when they reached the house and went clattering up the steps, Mrs.
Bobbsey came softly out of the door with a hand raised to stop them.
“Hush!” she whispered. “Don’t make any noise!”
“What’s the matter?” asked Nan, in a low voice.
“Baby May is sick,” Mrs. Bobbsey replied. “The doctor has been here, and
the poor little thing has just gone to sleep. Don’t make any noise!”