round here. Tell your fortune, lady?” This to Aunt Emily, who waited for Dorothy.
“Not today,” answered Aunt Emily. “We are looking for two children. Are you sure you have not seen them?”
“No, lady. Gypsy tell lady’s fortune, then lady find them,” she suggested, with that trick her class always uses, trying to impose on persons in trouble with the suggestion of helping them out of it.
“No, we have not time,” insisted Aunt Emily; really quite alarmed now that there was no trace of the little twins.
“Let me look through your tent?” asked Dorothy, bravely.
“What for?” demanded the old woman.
“To make sure the children are not hiding,” and without waiting for a word from the old woman, Dorothy walked straight into that gypsy tent!
Even Aunt Emily was frightened.
Suppose somebody inside should keep Dorothy?
“Come out of my house!” muttered the woman, starting after Dorothy.
“Come out, Dorothy,” called her mother, but the girl was making her way through the old beds and things inside, to make sure there was no Freddie or Flossie to be found in the tent.
It was a small place, of course, and it did not take Dorothy very long to search it.
Presently she appeared again, much to the relief of her mother, Nan, and Nellie, who waited breathlessly outside.
“They are not around here,” said Dorothy. “Now, mother, give the old woman some change to make up for my trespassing.”
Aunt Emily took a coin from her chatelaine.
“Thank the lady! Good lady,” exclaimed the old gypsy. “Lady find her babies; babies play—see!” (And she pretended to look into the future with some dirty cards.) “Babies play in woods. Natalie sees babies picking flowers.”
Now, how could anybody ever guess that the old gypsy had just come down from picking dandelions by the lake, where she really had seen Freddie and Flossie on the island?
And how could anybody know that she was too wicked to tell Aunt Emily this, but was waiting until night, to bring the children back home herself, and get a reward for doing so?
She had seen the boat drift away and she knew the little ones were helpless to return home unless someone found them.
Mrs. Bobbsey and the boys were now coming up from the beach.
What, at first, seemed only a mishap, now looked like a very serious matter.
“We must go to the woods,” insisted Dorothy. “Maybe that old woman knew they were in the woods.”
But as such things always happen, the searchers went to the end of the woods, far away from the island. Of course they all called loudly, and the boys gave the familiar yodel, but the noise of the ocean made it impossible for the call to reach Freddie and Flossie.
“Oh, I’m so afraid they are drowned!” exclaimed Mrs. Bobbsey, breaking down and crying.
“No, mamma,” insisted Nan, “I am sure they are not. Flossie is so afraid of the water, and Freddie always minds Flossie. They must be playing somewhere. Maybe they are home by this time,” and so it was agreed to go back to the house and if the little ones were not there—then—
“But they must be there,” insisted Nellie, starting on a run over the swampy grounds toward the Cliffs.
And all this time Freddie and Flossie were quite unconcerned playing on the island.
“Oh, there’s a man!” shouted Freddie, seeing someone in the woods. “Maybe it’s Friday. Say there, Mister!” he shouted. “Say, will you help us get to land?”
The man heard the child’s voice and hurried to the edge of the lake.
“Wall, I declare!” he exclaimed, “if them babies ain’t lost out there. And here comes their boat. Well, I’ll just fetch them in before they try to swim out,” he told himself, swinging into the drifting boat, and with the stout stick he had in his hand, pushing off for the little island.
The island was quite near to shore on that side, and it was only a few minutes’ work for the man to reach the children.
“What’s your name?” he demanded, as soon as he touched land.
“Freddie Bobbsey,” spoke up the little fellow, bravely, “and we live at the Cliffs.”
“You do, eh? Then it was your brothers who brought my cow home, so I can pay them back by taking you home now. I can’t row to the far shore with this stick, so we’ll have to tramp it through the woods. Come along.” and carefully he lifted the little ones into the boat, pushing to the woods, and started off to walk the round-about way, through the woods, to the bridge, then along the road back to the Cliffs, where a whole household was in great distress because of the twins’ absence.
CHAPTER XVI
Dorothy’s Doings
“Here they come!” called Nellie, who was searching around the barn, and saw the farmer with the two children crossing the hill.
“I’m Robinson Crusoe!” insisted Freddie, “and this is my man, Friday,” he added, pointing to the farmer.
Of course it did not take long to clear up the mystery of the little ones’ disappearance. But since his return Freddie acted like a hero, and certainly felt like one, and Flossie brought home with her a dainty bouquet of pink sebatia, that rare little flower so like a tiny wild rose. The farmer refused to take anything for his time and trouble, being glad to do our friends a favor.
Aunt Sarah and Harry were to leave for Meadow Brook that afternoon, but the worry over the children being lost made Aunt Sarah feel quite unequal to the journey, so Aunt Emily prevailed upon her to wait another day.
“There are so many dangers around here,” remarked Aunt Sarah, when all the “scare” was over. “It is different in the country. We never worry about lost children out in Meadow Brook.”
“But I often got lost out there,” insisted Freddie. “Don’t you remember?”
Aunt Sarah had some recollection of the little fellow’s adventures in that line, and laughed over them, now that they were recalled.
Late that afternoon Dorothy, Nan, and Nellie had a conference: that is, they talked with their heads so close together not even Flossie could get an idea of what they were planning. But it was certainly mischief, for Dorothy had most to say, and she would rather have a good joke than a good dinner any day, so Susan said.
Harry, Hal, and Bert had been chasing through the woods after a odd-looking bird. It was large, and had brilliant feathers, and when it rested for a moment on a tree it would pick at the bark as if it were trying to play a tune with its beak. Each time it struck the bark its head bobbed up and down in a strange way for a bird. But the boys could not get it. They set Hal’s trap, and even used an air rifle in hopes of bringing it down without killing it, but the bird puttered from place to place, not in a very great hurry, but just fast enough to keep the boys busy chasing it.
That evening, at dinner, the strange bird was much talked about.
“Dat’s a ban-shee!” declared Dinah, jokingly. “Dat bird came to bring a message from somebody. You boys will hear dat tonight, see if you doesn’t,” and she gave a very mysterious wink at Dorothy, who just then nearly choked with her dessert.
A few hours later the house was all quiet. The happenings of the day brought a welcome night, and tired little heads comfortably hugged their pillows.
It must have been about midnight, Bert was positive he had just heard the clock strike a lot of rings, surely a dozen or so, when at his window came a odd sound, like something pecking. At first Bert got it mixed up with his dreams, but as it continued longer and louder, he called