he did. And my father—but never mind that now,” broke off the tall boy. He had been on the point of saying that his father had given him a severe thrashing. “I’m going to fix you, Bert Bobbsey.”
“Don’t you dare to strike my brother, Danny Rugg!” put in Nan, stepping in between them.
How much further the quarrel might have gone, it is impossible to say, for just then Mr. Tetlow put in an appearance, and Danny sneaked off in great haste.
When the children came from school they learned that Mrs. Bobbsey had been downtown, buying some shoes for herself and Flossie.
“Mr. Ringley was telling me about his broken window,” said she to her husband. “He found out that Danny Rugg broke it. Old Mr. Roscoe saw Danny do it. He didn’t know Danny at the time, but he has found out since who Danny was.”
“That Rugg boy is a bad one,” answered Mr. Bobbsey. “I suppose Mr. Ringley made the Ruggs pay for the window.”
“Oh, yes, and Mr. Rugg said he was going to correct Danny, too.”
The children heard this talk, but said nothing at the time. But later Nan called Bert out into the garden.
“I see it all,” she whispered to her twin brother. “That’s why Mr. Roscoe asked me who Danny was, and that’s why he said Danny was such a bad boy.”
“I’m glad in one way that Danny has been found out,” answered Bert, “for that clears me.” And he was right, for he never heard of the broken window again.
The children were still waiting anxiously for a letter from their Uncle Dan or their Aunt Sarah. At last a letter came and they listened to it with great delight.
“Oh, what do you think?” cried Nan, dancing up to Bert. “We are to go to Meadow Brook as soon as vacation begins!”
“Good!” shouted Bert, throwing his cap into the air. “Won’t we have the best times ever was!” And this proved to be a fact. What happened to the Bobbsey twins at Meadow Brook will be told in another book, which I shall call, “The Bobbsey Twins in the Country.” The country is a lovely place, especially in the summer time, and all of my young readers can rest assured that the twins enjoyed themselves at Meadow Brook to the utmost.
“I’ll be so glad to see Cousin Harry again,” said Bert.
“And I’ll be glad to see Aunt Sarah,” piped in Freddie. “She makes such beautiful pies!”
“Think of the lovely big barn,” put in Flossie. “It’s just like a—a palace to play in on wet days!”
“Oh, Flossie, to compare a barn to a palace!” exclaimed Nan. “But it is a nice place after all,” she added, after a moment’s thought.
That evening, to celebrate the good news, the twins gave a little party to half a dozen of their most intimate friends. There were music and singing, and all sorts of games, and a magic-lantern exhibition by one of the boys. All enjoyed it greatly and voted the little party a great success.
“Good-night! Good-night!” said the young folks to each other, when the party broke up. And here let us say good-night, too, for my little story has reached its end.
THE BOBBSEY TWINS IN THE COUNTRY
CHAPTER X
The Invitation
“There goes the bell! It’s the letter carrier! Let me answer!” Freddie exclaimed.
“Oh, let me! It’s my turn this week!” cried Flossie.
“But I see a blue envelope. That’s from Aunt Sarah!” the brother cried.
Meanwhile both children, Freddie and Flossie, were making all possible efforts to reach the front door, which Freddie finally did by jumping over the little divan that stood in the way, it being sweeping day.
“I beat you,” laughed the boy, while his sister stood back, acknowledging defeat.
“Well, Dinah had everything in the way and anyhow, maybe it was your turn. Mother is in the sewing room, I guess!” Flossie concluded, and so the two started in search of the mother, with the welcome letter from Aunt Sarah tight in Freddie’s chubby fist.
Freddie and Flossie were the younger of the two pairs of twins that belonged to the Bobbsey family. The little ones were four years old, both with light curls framing pretty dimpled faces, and both being just fat enough to be good-natured. The other twins, Nan and Bert, were eight years old, dark and handsome, and as like as “two peas” the neighbors used to say. Some people thought it strange there should be two pairs of twins in one house, but Nan said it was just like four-leaf clovers, that always grow in little patches by themselves.
This morning the letter from Aunt Sarah, always a welcome happening, was especially joyous.
“Do read it out loud,” pleaded Flossie, when the blue envelope had been opened in the sewing room by Mrs. Bobbsey.
“When can we go?” broke in Freddie, at a single hint that the missive contained an invitation to visit Meadow Brook, the home of Aunt Sarah in the country.
“Now be patient, children,” the mother told them. “I’ll read the invitation in just a minute,” and she kept her eyes fastened on the blue paper in a way that even to Freddie and Flossie meant something very interesting.
“Aunt Sarah wants to know first how we all are.”
“Oh, we’re all well,” Freddie interrupted, showing some impatience.
“Do listen, Freddie, or we won’t hear,” Flossie begged him, tugging at his elbow.
“Then she says,” continued the mother, “that this is a beautiful summer at Meadow Brook.”
“Course it is. We know that!” broke in Freddie again.
“Freddie!” pleaded Flossie.
“And she asks how we would like to visit them this summer.”
“Fine, like it—lovely!” the little boy almost shouted, losing track of words in his delight.
“Tell her we’ll come, mamma,” went on Freddie. “Do send a letter quick won’t you, mamma?”
“Freddie Bobbsey!” spoke up Flossie, in a little girl’s way of showing indignation. “If you would only keep quiet we could hear about going, but—you always stop mamma. Please, mamma, read the rest,” and the golden head was pressed against the mother’s shoulder from the arm of the big rocking chair.
“Well, I was only just saying—” pouted Freddie.
“Now listen, dear.” The mother went on once more reading from the letter: “Aunt Sarah says Cousin Harry can hardly wait until vacation time to see Bert, and she also says, ‘For myself I cannot wait to see the babies. I want to hear Freddie laugh, and I want to hear Flossie “say her piece,” as she did last Christmas, then I just want to hug them both to death, and so does their Uncle Daniel.’”
“Good!—goody!” broke in the irrepressible Freddie again. “I’ll just hug Aunt Sarah this way,” and he fell on his mother’s neck and squeezed until she cried for him to stop.
“I guess she’ll like that,” Freddie wound up, in real satisfaction at his hugging ability.
“Not if you spoil her hair,” Flossie insisted, while the overcome mother tried to adjust herself generally.
“Is that all?” Flossie asked.
“No, there is a message for Bert and Nan too, but I must keep that for lunch time. Nobody likes stale news,” the mother replied.
“But can’t we hear it when Bert and Nan come from school?” coaxed Flossie.
“Of course,” the mother assured her. “But you must run out in the air now. We have taken such a long time to read the