CHAPTER IX
THE MYSTERIOUS NOTE
“A BEAR!” Harry cried out “How did he get in the house?”
“I—I don’t know,” Freddie answered.
By this time Mr. Bobbsey and Bert were dashing up the stairs two steps at a time, with Nan at their heels. Reaching the boys’ room they could indeed see two bright-glaring eyes in a corner of the room. A moment later there came a low growl.
“Oh!” the three exclaimed.
Mr. Bobbsey switched on the light Everyone stared in blank amazement, then burst into laughter. There was a bear in the room all right —but a toy bear with electrically lighted eyes. In a chair sat Dorothy Minturn, growling merrily.
By this time Freddie had arrived and was peering into the room between his father’s legs. “You meanie!” he exclaimed, but laughed as he walked in.
“Why, Freddie,” said Dorothy, pretending to be hurt, “how can you say such a thing? Here I lugged this nice bear all the way from home to give you for Christmas, and now I guess you don’t want it.”
Freddie managed a crestfallen grin. “I won’t say again I’m not afraid of anything. It was pretty silly being afraid of a toy bear. Thanks a lot, Dorothy. I like him.”
As Freddie went over to try turning the electric eyes on and off, the others went downstairs and continued their discussion about the holiday trip.
“We’ll cut our own Christmas tree in the woods,” Mr. Bobbsey said. “And trim it with things you can make yourselves.”
“How about strings of popcorn?” Nan suggested.
“Mm, popcorn,” said Harry. “Some would taste good right now.”
“We’ll make some,” Nan suggested. “Come on.” She led the way into the kitchen, where Dinah was bustling about. “May we roast some popcorn?” she asked the cook.
“Why, sure you can, honey child!” Dinah answered. “Matter of fact I was just thinkin’ the same thing myself.”
At this moment Sam Johnson came in from outside. He greeted the visiting cousins, who, like the twins, adored Dinah’s tall, easygoing husband. “I’ll get the popper,” he offered. “It’s down in the basement.”
Presently Dinah and Sam went upstairs to their room. The twins found boxes of corn, and soon the merry pop pop of the grains could be heard. Nan melted some butter and was just about to take it from the stove when the children were alarmed by the sound of several bumps, then a crash on the stairway in the hall.
“Susie 1” they heard Flossie scream.
A second later a louder bumpety, bump, bumt, crash! rang through the house, followed by a moan.
“Flossie!” Mrs. Bobbsey cried, darting into the hall with the rest of the family following.
In a crumpled heap on the hall rug lay the little girl. Her doll was in a grotesque position on the bottom step. Alarmed, Mrs. Bobbsey bent over Flossie and quickly, but gently, examined her carefully.
“Darling, are you hurt?” she asked, as her young daughter’s eyes fluttered open.
Flossie tried to sit upright. “I—I don’t know yet,” she gasped. Then, getting to her feet, she said:
“My dolly—she fell and I tried to reach her and—” Flossie caught sight of the doll. “Oh, Susie, are you all right?”
She picked up the toy and cuddled it close, as Mr. Bobbsey caught up both of them.
“Hey, little fat fairy,” he said, smiling to hide his worry. “Are you sure nothing is wrong?”
“Honest, Daddy, I’m okay ’cept I bumped my knee and right elbow. But I’m afraid Susie’s hurt bad.”
“Let’s see if Susie can still walk,” suggested Nan. Taking the doll from Flossie, Nan walked a few paces with the doll’s feet touching the floor.
As Dinah and Sam hurried down the stairs to see what had caused the noise, Flossie heaved a sigh of relief and, taking the doll back, began to talk to Susie.
Suddenly she turned to her mother with tears in her eyes. “Susie’s lost her voice!” she cried in despair. “She can’t say a word—not even ‘Mama’!”
Sobbing, Flossie crouched on the bottom step and rocked the doll back and forth in her arms.
Sam sat down beside Flossie. “Here now,” he said kindly, “let me see Susie. Maybe I can fix her for you.”
“Oh, could you, Sam?” said Flossie, her eyes shining hopefully through her tears. Tenderly she laid the doll in the man’s outstretched hands.
Sam placed the doll face down on his lap, then rummaged about in his pockets until he produced a tiny screwdriver. Next he removed a small plate on the doll’s back, made some adjustments inside, and replaced the plate.
With a wink at Flossie, Sam turned Susie right side up again. “Good morning, Mama!” Susie said in a high-pitched voice.
“Oh, Sam, you cured her!” Flossie squealed, smiling at him as she hugged the doll tight. “Thank you, and Susie does, too. You’re a real doll-doctor !”
“Hey!” Bert interrupted, sniffing the air. “What’s burning?”
“Oh, good night!” Nan cried, racing toward the kitchen. “It’s the butter I was melting for the popcorn!”
The saucepan was black and the butter had disappeared completely. Smoke hung in the air. Bert turned on the ventilating fan, while Nan found another pan and put in a new chunk of butter.
“It’s a good thing your popper is automatic or the corn would have burned, too,” Dorothy remarked, as she picked up the burned saucepan to scour it.
Harry chuckled. “Never a dull moment!”
Half an hour later as the whole family was enjoying a fresh batch of buttered popcorn, the telephone rang.
Bert hurried to answer it, and they could hear him say, “Yes, we’re leaving tomorrow morning. We’ll be there a week. Oh, that’s all right. Good-by.”
When Bert returned to the fireplace his mother asked who had called.
“A man from the newspaper. He said the Lakeport Times wanted to put a line in the social column about our trip.”
Mrs. Bobbsey frowned. “A man?” she said. “Why, the social page is run by Clara Estes. I know her well. No man has anything to do with the social news.”
“I’m sorry, Mother,” said Bert. “I didn’t know—”
“Of course you didn’t,” Mrs. Bobbsepbroke in. “But recently burglars have been using the telephone method to learn when people will be away.”
Bert was greatly worried. “I’ll never do such a thing again. Maybe we should notify the police.”
“I think we should,” Mr. Bobbsey agreed. “I’ll ask them to keep an eye on the house until we get back.”
He went to the phone at once and put in the call. The police captain promised that patrol cars and a special detective would be on hand to protect the property and also to nab any burglar who might come there.
“I feel better now,” said Bert, heaving a sigh of relief. “I sure muffed that one.”
Mrs. Bobbsey smiled. “I feel better about it, too. And now, how about bed for you children? The earlier you wake up, the earlier we can get started for Snow Lodge.”
“I s’pose so,” said Flossie, “but I hate to leave this nice fire. I just know my bed’s going to be freezing cold.”
“Mine, too,” Freddie added. “Please, Mommy, may we have our bedtime story down here?”
“All right,” Mrs. Bobbsey agreed, “and everyone can take part in the telling. I’ll start and we’ll go around the circle, with each one continuing where the other leaves off.”
“Dorothy, don’t you play any more tricks,” Freddie pleaded.
His cousin grinned. “Not a real one, anyway,” she promised.
Mrs. Bobbsey began. “Once upon a time there was a large family who lived in a lovely house in the woods.”
“That’s us—starting tomorrow,” Flossie interrupted.
“Soon it began to snow,” her mother went on, “and by the next morning the snow was so deep that—Harry, go on with the story.”
“So deep that the only way the people could get out was from the second-floor windows,” said Harry. “One boy named Bert tried it and went right down in the fluffy stuff all the way to the ground.”
“Oh!” cried Flossie. “Did somebody rescue him?”
Harry grinned. “Bert crawled under the snow toward a cellar window that he knew was open, and—” The storyteller turned to Nan. “Your turn.”
“Just as Bert felt as if he couldn’t hold his breath another second, he climbed in and was safe.”
“I’m so glad,” Flossie murmured.
At that moment the front door chimes sounded. “I’ll go,” Bert offered, and went into the hall.
After he opened the door, there was silence. A moment later the family heard Bert gasp. Then he closed the door quickly and returned to the living room. He was holding an envelope and a sheet of paper from which he was reading with a puzzled frown.
“What does it say?” his father asked.
“I found this under the door. But there wasn’t anybody on the porch or anywhere in sight.”
“What does it say?” Mr. Bobbsey repeated.
Bert wore a frightened, puzzled expression on his face. Then, as all eyes were on him, he said, “It—it’s addressed to the Bobbsey twins. It says:
‘Stay away from Snow Lodge! If you don’t, you’ll be sorry. The Black Monster will get you all!’”
