CHAPTER VII
THREE SANTAS
THE next day school was adjourned at noon, marking the beginning of the Christmas vacation. The Bobbseys hurried home and learned that lunch would be a little late. Dinah had spent most of the morning helping the twins’ mother pack and bake holiday cookies to be taken to Snow Lodge.
“Isn’t it ’citing?” Flossie said.
At this instant the telephone rang, and Nan rushed to answer it “Dorothy!” she shrieked. “You got my telegram?”
“Sure. It was delivered yesterday. The phone lines have just been fixed.”
“Can you come?” Nan asked. “Oh, I hope—”
“Guess what!” Dorothy cried out. “I’m packed and ready to take the train! Can you meet me?”
“Can we?” Nan almost shouted.
“My train reaches Lakeport at five.”
“We’ll be there.”
“Good-by now. I have to run.”
A few minutes later Harry called Bert. “What time is supper at your house tonight?” he asked.
“You’re coming!” Bert yelled.
“You bet. I’ll be down on the bus. Be at your house by six.”
“That’s keen!” said Bert. “And Harry, there’s a mystery connected with Snow Lodge.”
“What! Oh boy, will we have fun solving it!” said Harry, then hung up.
While waiting for lunch, Flossie and Freddie huddled together on the sofa in the living room over a sheet of paper. They began to write out a list of everything they wanted to take with them to Snow Lodge.
“Flossie, how do you spell engine?” asked her twin.
“Like in fire engine?” Flossie teased, knowing very well that Freddie meant his toy firefighting apparatus.
“Naturally,” Freddie answered. “I have to take my hook and ladder set along.”
Flossie nodded seriously, for many times her brother had helped to put out little fires with his equipment. “But I’m not sure how it’s spelled,” she said dubiously.
Her twin shrugged. “Never mind, you can bet I won’t forget that toy.”
The little boy put down his pencil and jumped up. “I’d better test the engine now to make sure everything’s working right. We might have to use it at Snow Lodge some time.”
“Good idea, Freddie,” Flossie said approvingly. “I’ll come and watch you.”
In a few minutes Freddie had filled the pump of his truck with water and started to race from room to room, putting out imaginary fires. While Flossie watched, he squirted the fireplace and a large plant on a living-room table.
“It works perfectly,” he said with satisfaction.
Just then there was a sharp cry from the kitchen.
“That sounded like Dinah!” Flossie exclaimed, and the twins raced to the kitchen.
For a moment they could see nothing but a cloud of thick gray smoke billowing toward them. Flossie ran shouting for her mother, who was upstairs. With his eyes smarting, Freddie entered the room. In alarm, he saw that flames were shooting from the broiler in the range. Some grease must have caught on fire! But where was Dinah?
Dashing back for his fire engine, Freddie returned to the kitchen. He was about to pump water on the fire when a voice cried out:
“Stop!” It was Dinah, who came hurrying from the pantry with a box in her hand. “Don’t use water on a grease fire, honey child. Use salt!”
The startled boy looked doubtful, but he grabbed the salt box from Dinah’s hand and poured the white crystals freely over the flaming grease.
As the fire sputtered and was finally extinguished, Flossie and Mrs. Bobbsey rushed into the kitchen.
“Freddie put the fire out,” said Dinah, and told what he had done. “He’s a real live fireman!”
“With your help,” Freddie said modestly. “Gee,” he added, “a real, honest-to-goodness fire, and wouldn’t you know I couldn’t try my pumper!”
Dinah, Flossie, and Mrs. Bobbsey laughed. “But from now on you’ll know exactly what to use on a grease fire,” Mrs. Bobbsey pointed out. “A good fireman should know about all types of extinguishers.”
Lunch was finally served and the twins ate hungrily. They had just finished when they heard the front door chimes ring. “I’ll see who’s there,” Flossie offered, skipping into the hall. “It’s probably Mr. Santa Claus Carford.”
It was the elderly man, ready to take them.
“Jingle-jangle!” cried Freddie, and raced to the door to greet Mr. Carford. “I’ll be ready in a flash!”
Mr. Carford chuckled and shook hands with Mrs.. Bobbsey, who had followed the twins. While she talked with their new friend, Freddie and Flossie dashed upstairs for extra sweaters and warm coats. On the way down, Flossie noticed that her twin was stuffing a toy hook and ladder inside his coat.
“What’s that for?” she asked.
Freddie blushed. “Well, I just thought maybe Mr. Carford wouldn’t have enough toys to go around for all the children on his list, and—say, what do you have there?”
He pointed to a pretty little doll with red hair that Flossie was tucking into the big pocket of her coat.
“I guess I had the same idea, Freddie.” Flossie grinned. “Let’s not tell anyone, though.”
“I promise.”
As the children were scrambling into the sleigh with Mr. Carford, they noticed that the whole back seat was piled high with baskets and packages. Maybe their toys would not be needed after all!
On the way to the first house, Mr. Carford said he was delighted that the Bobbseys would spend the holidays at Snow Lodge. “Your mother says it’s all arranged for you to go tomorrow.”
“That’s right,” Freddie answered, “and we’re going to look and look—”
A sharp nudge in the ribs by Flossie made him catch his breath. It was his twin’s way of warning him not to mention their plan to search for the missing money. Though they probably would not find it, bringing the subject up would remind Mr. Carford of his nephew.
“You’re going to look—?” the man prompted.
“Oh, yes!” Freddie managed to say. “All around your wonderful house. We can’t wait!”
Flossie winked at her twin. He had managed to change the subject very neatly.
After Mr. Carford left a large box of toys at a rather shabby house on the far side of town, he got back into the sleigh with a thoughtful expression.
“Do you feel sick?” Flossie asked him anxiously, as the horse trotted briskly down the snowy street.
“Of course not.”Mr. Carford laughed. “I was just thinking of how much that home reminds me of the one I lived in with my aunt and uncle after my parents died. They were very poor and did not have many comforts. But they gave me kindness and a lot of love.”
“Tell us about when you were little,” Flossie urged, sliding her hand into Mr. Carford’s large, warm one. At the moment he was holding the reins with only his left hand.
“There’s not much to tell,” replied their friend. “But one thing I do remember—at Christmastime there was seldom any money for presents. One time, when I was ten, I so wanted a kite to fly. I had been looking at a beautiful red-and-yellow one in a certain toy store window. How I wished my uncle would get it for me that Christmas ! But I never told him. I knew it was no use.”
Flossie and Freddie looked very sad after hearing this story. Poor Mr. Carford!
“Is that why you give so many toys away at this time of year?” asked Flossie.
“Yes,” was the simple reply.
Freddie thought to himself that it made the generous man happy to help those children whose parents were having difficult times.
Suddenly Mr. Carford chuckled. “Well, on to our next stop, children. Giddap, Daisy!” he called to the horse. “Time’s a-wastin’!”
At each of the homes Mr. Carford visited, he managed to see the children’s parents, and ask them to save the gifts for Christmas morning. Finally the back of the sleigh was empty.
“Well, that’s all, youngsters,” he told the Bobbseys. “I’ll have you home in a jiffy.”
Flossie and Freddie nodded, and each felt the toy he had hidden. The twins were wondering if there were not some other child to whom they might present a little gift.
Unaware of this, Mr. Carford started to sing, “Jolly Old St. Nicholas.” The sleighbells jingled, and the twins’ spirits lifted as they joined in the chorus.
Suddenly Flossie cried, “Oh, look!”
Ahead of them a small boy with his face buried in his hands was seated on the curb. His little shoulders shook, and his whole body shivered.
“Why, he’s crying,” Freddie exclaimed. “Please stop the sleigh, Mr. Carford. Maybe we can help.”
As the horse slowed, Freddie and Flossie jumped to the ground and ran over to the little fellow. They tapped him on the shoulder, but he did not look up.
“What’s the matter?” Flossie asked gently.
“Are you lost?” Freddie said, and this time the short brown hair tossed in a definite no.
“C’mon,” Flossie urged, putting a chubby arm around his shoulders. “Please stop crying, please do!”
The boy looked up, and the twins saw that he was about four years old. His freckled face looked woebegone, stained with tears and smudged with dirt.
“Hello,” he said, then looked down at the street.
“Where do you live?” Freddie asked.
A muffled reply of, “Two-six-Pine-Street” was heard.
“That’s on the way to our house,” said Flossie. “We’ll walk home with you. Okay?”
This time a very faint nod rewarded the twins. Returning to the sleigh, they told Mr. Carford of their plan and thanked him for a lovely afternoon. The man smiled, said good-by, and drove off.
“Now,” Freddie said brusquely to the boy, “you’re too old to cry.”
The gruff words seemed to work. The child brushed away his tears. Shyly he told the Bobbseys his name was Bobby Forsten.
“I don’t always cry,” he said defiantly.
“Neither do I,” Flossie said, but with a twinkle in her eyes. “And I’m afraid to this time of year. Think how slippery our tears would make the sidewalks if they froze!”
Bobby laughed, and they started off. Three blocks down they reached the little boy’s home, which turned out to be a two-family dwelling.
The twins walked up the front steps and started to push the doorbell. Suddenly Bobby sobbed, pushed open the door, and disappeared inside.
“What—” Flossie began, but Freddie waved her to silence.
Through the open door they noticed a young woman talking at a telephone booth in the hall. Her back was turned to the twins, and evidently she had not heard them or Bobby, for she was saying:
“Yes, I’m afraid Bobby and Karen know already that Santa Claus won’t be leaving any presents here this year. I tried to make them understand and I think Bobby does. What can I do with my husband so ill for such a long time? It’s all we can manage just to keep the house going and feed everyone. But I feel dreadful about it—”
The Bobbseys did not wait to hear more. No wonder Bobby had been crying! Here was their chance to help someone! !
A moment later, when Flossie and Freddie skipped down the front steps, a small hook and ladder and a sweet-faced doll had been left behind, placed side by side in the front hall of Bobby’s home.
“Merry Christmas, Karen! Merry Christmas, Bobby !” Flossie whispered softly to herself.
