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"It's more likely fatty degeneration of the brain, if it's Bert Wyman that has it," said an emphatic voice, and a spruce energetic maiden joined the group. "I just got in on the 10:10, and Mother said you were all over here. What's before the house?" "Nothing. We're all on the house," explained Archie dryly, but Polly answered the question with careful courtesy. Dorcas listened.
"I don't know who wrote it. Some one must have gone to my typewriter when I was away, or maybe it was done at night." "Could it have been the old housekeeper?" asked Bert. "Maybe she is in trouble, and this looks like an appeal for aid." "No. Mrs. Blarcum is afraid to touch the machine. Besides, she doesn't even know how to put the paper in."
"Of course not, father; but I might get a whipping, all the same." "We'll hope not, Bert; we'll hope not. And now, look here. Would you like it any better going to Dr. Johnston's if Frank were to go with you?" "Oh, yes indeed, father," exclaimed Bert, his face lighting up. "If Frank goes too, I won't mind it." "All right then, Bert; I am glad to say that Frank is going, too.
Often when the Lloyds had guests, they would entertain them by having Bert put Brownie through his programme. Then the cute little fellow would be at his best, for he evidently enjoyed an appreciative audience quite as much as they did his feats.
"Where's Bert?" asked Flossie, looking about for her older brother. "I guess he hasn't come back from fishing yet," said Nan. "Come, Flossie and Freddie, I have a little bit of lunch left, and you might as well eat it, so you won't be hungry on the way home." The littler Bobbsey twins were glad enough to do this.
He often came to play with Bert, Nan, Flossie and Freddie, and the Bobbsey twins never grew tired of hearing Mr. Todd tell of how he was shipwrecked. The Winter wore on. Christmas came. And what a happy one it was for the Todd family, as well as for the Bobbsey twins! "We had as much fun at home this Winter as we did in the Summer at Meadow Brook," said Nan.
Yet there are no tracks such as your father would have left had he taken to the water close to where he left his discarded garments," argued Hemingway, swinging his lantern about. "We've pretty well trodden down whatever footprints might have been here," disputed Bert Dodge. "I shan't feel satisfied until daylight comes and we've had a good chance to have the river dragged."
It was called the Bluebird, and they had voyaged down Lake Metoka to Lemby Creek, and through that to Lake Romano, where they had fine times. There was a mystery on the Bluebird, but Bert, and his cousin Harry, who was with him, found out what made the queer noises. Cousin Dorothy was also a guest on the houseboat trip, and she and Nan, who were about the same age, greatly enjoyed themselves.
He supposed that Bert had been left behind when Mitchel advanced. His parents in Cleveland? What would they think if they were told that he was a hundred miles behind the Confederate picket lines? What a story to tell them when he returned! And Marjorie Landis? Would she realize, when the news of the raid swept over the country, that he had taken part in it? She was a plucky girl!
"And they didn't have a single fire engine!" sighed Freddie. "Too bad!" laughed Bert. "We'll look for a show for you, Freddie, where they have nothing but fire engines!" But, after all, even without quite enough red fire and not a fire engine on the stage, the play was enjoyed by the Bobbsey twins and their little friends, the Martin children.
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