Get ebook downloads in full at ebookmeta.

com

Forever Con Amor For Him 4 1st Edition A M Johnson

https://ebookmeta.com/product/forever-con-amor-for-
him-4-1st-edition-a-m-johnson/

OR CLICK BUTTON

DOWNLOAD NOW

Explore and download more ebook at https://ebookmeta.com

 Recommended digital products (PDF, EPUB, MOBI) that
you can download immediately if you are interested.

Dear Mr Brody For Him 3 1st Edition A M Johnson

https://ebookmeta.com/product/dear-mr-brody-for-him-3-1st-edition-a-m-
johnson/

ebookmeta.com

Love Always Wild For Him 1 1st Edition A M Johnson

https://ebookmeta.com/product/love-always-wild-for-him-1-1st-edition-
a-m-johnson/

ebookmeta.com

Not So Sincerely Yours For Him 2 1st Edition A M Johnson

https://ebookmeta.com/product/not-so-sincerely-yours-for-him-2-1st-
edition-a-m-johnson/

ebookmeta.com

Python Programming for Raspberry Pi Sams Teach Yourself in

24 Hours 2nd Edition Richard Blum Christine Bresnahan

https://ebookmeta.com/product/python-programming-for-raspberry-pi-
sams-teach-yourself-in-24-hours-2nd-edition-richard-blum-christine-
bresnahan/
ebookmeta.com
Fodor s Chicago Full color Travel Guide 32nd Edition
Fodor'S Travel Guides

https://ebookmeta.com/product/fodor-s-chicago-full-color-travel-
guide-32nd-edition-fodors-travel-guides/

ebookmeta.com

Biomass Conversion Methods and Protocols Michael E Himmel

https://ebookmeta.com/product/biomass-conversion-methods-and-
protocols-michael-e-himmel/

ebookmeta.com

Violence Silence and Rhetorical Cultures of Champion

Building in Sports 1st Edition Kathleen. Sandell Hardesty

https://ebookmeta.com/product/violence-silence-and-rhetorical-
cultures-of-champion-building-in-sports-1st-edition-kathleen-sandell-
hardesty/
ebookmeta.com

Eyes To The Sky Privacy And Commerce In The Age Of The

Drone 1st Edition Matthew Feeney

https://ebookmeta.com/product/eyes-to-the-sky-privacy-and-commerce-in-
the-age-of-the-drone-1st-edition-matthew-feeney/

ebookmeta.com

Data Structures and Abstractions with Java Solutions for

Selected Exercises Frank M Carrano Timothy M Henry Charles
Hoot
https://ebookmeta.com/product/data-structures-and-abstractions-with-
java-solutions-for-selected-exercises-frank-m-carrano-timothy-m-henry-
charles-hoot/
ebookmeta.com
Culture Your Culture Innovating Experiences Work 1st
Edition Karen Jaw-Madson

https://ebookmeta.com/product/culture-your-culture-innovating-
experiences-work-1st-edition-karen-jaw-madson/

ebookmeta.com
Forever, Con Amor
A Novel by
A.M. JOHNSON
FOR HIM BOOK FOUR

Except the original material written by the author, all songs, and
song titles contained in this book are the property of the respective
songwriters and copyright holders. The author concedes to the
trademarked status and trademark owners of the products and
franchises mentioned in this fiction novel and recognizes that they
have been used without permission. The use and publication of
these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by
the trademark owners.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any
electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and
retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The
only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a
review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and
incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used
fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or
events is entirely coincidental.

Editing and Formatting by Elaine York, Allusion Publishing

Cover Design: Enchanting Romance Designs
Cover Model: Franco Garcia
Cover Photo: Xram Ragde
Illustrated Cover Design: Murphy Rae
Illustration: Ashley Quick
 Author Note
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
 Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Other Books by A.M. Johnson
To those who dream.
 For Amy
I wish you were here.
 “Step out of the history that is holding you back.
Step into the new story you are willing to create.” — Oprah Winfrey
Dear Reader,
I wanted to give you a small heads up. There is an on-page, low on
detail, high on heroics, moment of a targeted hate crime and some
mild violence. I promise the asshole gets his karma sandwich. =)
 Chance
The sharp sound of the zipper cut through the small room. His
amber eyes had darkened the longer I stared at him. Attempting to
shut his entire wardrobe into his suitcase, he frowned. The hard
lines marred his usual easy-going appearance. My shoulder rested
against the frame of the door as I watched him, helpless as to what
to say. How was I supposed to choose? How was I supposed to
decide my entire life based on this one argument? One unfair, yet
understandable, ultimatum. How was I supposed to watch him walk
away?
“Ethan,” I said his name and he ignored me, angrily tugging and
pushing at his clothes. Trying, though futile, to fit everything he
could into the small case. You couldn’t fit a two-year relationship into
a carry on. Years of memories were too big, too heavy to hold.
“Stop.” He didn’t. “Look at me.”
I stepped toward him, and he held up his hand, his head hanging
in defeat. “Get me that box.” Pointing a finger to the corner of the
room, he exhaled, his voice breaking as he said, “Please.”
“It’s Africa. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Think about all
you could do. All you could learn. You can come with me,” I pleaded,
already knowing his answer.
We’d been over this already a hundred times since I’d decided to
go.
“No… I can’t.”
“You can, goddamn it… but you won’t—”
“I’m not…” He scrubbed his fingers through his light brown hair
and huffed out a wet laugh. “You’re right. I won’t. Because for once
in my fucking life I’m choosing me.” Ethan’s suitcase sprung open,
and his chest deflated. “Fuck.”
 I grabbed the box he’d asked for and set it on the bed. Our bed.
“It’s one year,” I said and wrapped my arms around his waist,
resting my chest against his back. He leaned into me, his head
falling against my shoulder. “I know it’s a long time. It’s a lot to ask…
but I can’t lose you.”
“Then don’t go.”
We both stood there, the silence a shroud as we breathed each
other in, knowing I had to go. Knowing he wouldn’t wait. It was
final. It was everything. It was the end of us.
“I love you more than anything,” I said and held him as he tried
to pull away. “Ethan…”
“More than rebuilding houses in Africa? More than Costa Rica,
Colombia, or whatever country you just have to go to next?” he
asked, and I let him go. He turned to face me, the skin of his cheeks
pale and damp. “This is my fault too. I knew what I was getting into.
I thought I could handle it. Turns out I kind of hate having my
boyfriend thousands of miles away. I hate waking up alone every
fucking day. I hate worrying if you’ll make it home at all, worrying
where the hell you are and what might happen.” He wiped at his
cheeks and exhaled a shaky breath. “I hate missing you all the time.
I hate it, Chance. I gave you two years of my life, and Christ, I love
you, too, but I’m tired of waiting for you to choose us. I’m tired of
giving you everything and only getting pieces of you in return. When
do I become a priority? Hell, I have opportunities too. When do my
dreams matter?”
“You don’t have to go all the way to Atlanta to get a nursing
degree, Eth. Get it here, while I’m—”
“While you’re what? Off saving the world. I know you. It won’t
stop with Africa. It’s not fair for you to ask me to sit around and wait
for you, and it’s not fair for me to ask you to give up the job you
love.” He gripped the fabric of my t-shirt and pulled me close. “What
if I said okay? What if I waited for you to come home this time? Can
you honestly say there won’t be a next time? Another trip? Another
year I have to wait?”
My throat was thick with the promises I couldn’t keep. I’d
dedicated my life to service. I’d made my choices, made my plans,
and he was right. He’d followed me every step of the way. But he
could have his dreams, too…it didn’t have to be this black and white.
“We can do this together. Get your degree, do what you need to
do. I’ll always come back for you, Eth. Always.”
He sat on the bed, his throat working as he swallowed. “I can’t
do this anymore. It hurts too much to watch you leave.”
I knelt in front of him, my hands on his knees. “Go to Atlanta. Go
wherever you want. Apply to colleges. It’s one year. Don’t throw
everything away. We can get through this.”
“It shouldn’t be this hard… we shouldn’t have to get through it.”
Ethan ran his fingers through my hair. His lashes were wet, and he
blinked at me with hope. I closed my eyes like a coward. “Choose
us. Choose this.”

EIGHTEEN MONTHS LATER

Standing in front of my childhood home, sweat beaded along my
brow. The sea breeze warm on my skin, the smell of salt and that
deep, damp rot that only belonged to the South filled my lungs. The
Spanish moss dangled from the oak trees, swaying in the wind as I
shut the Jeep door. Koda took a few steps ahead of me, panting
through the thick Florida humidity, and growled at something I
couldn’t see.
“Hush, boy, it’s probably just a squirrel.”
I scratched the top of his furry head and raised my eyes. The
kitchen light was on, and I could see my sister Violet through the
window. It was all too familiar. Like nothing had changed at all. Like
I could lie to myself and close my eyes and pretend that at any
moment I’d hear his voice, that his hand was in mine, that we were
here together again. I could tell myself I hadn’t made the choices I
had. The choices that had led me back home, alone, having to start
my life all over again.
“Choose us. Choose this.”
His words hovered in the humid air as I walked toward the
house. I’d thought I could come back here, but in this moment,
thinking about him, thinking about the past, it all seemed vacant and
hollow. I told myself over and over again while I was in Africa that
I’d made the right choice. Every house I’d built, every home I’d had
a hand in creating had solidified my decision. The world had much
bigger problems. Poverty. Hunger. Hate. Death. So much suffering.
My love life was a pebble in an ocean of more important shit to
worry about. Nevertheless, the sting of his absence remained. The
pain of it was visceral. Fresh, even though it had been six months
since I’d returned from Africa.
“Chance!” Violet bounded down the trailer stairs and tackled me
as I dropped my bags onto the dirt path. She sobbed, sniffling into
my neck, and I squeezed her close. “I missed you so much.”
“Hey, sweet girl.” I held the back of her head with my hand and
found a little bit of peace in her embrace. “I missed you too.”
We didn’t say much, just held on to each other tight, like we
might drift apart in the wind. Eventually, she let go when Koda
whimpered, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. It made me
smile for the first time in, hell, if I could remember.
“That’s a big puppy.” Vi threaded her fingers through mine. “Will
he bite me?”
“Nah, he’s a softie.” I let go of her hand so she could pet him.
“He likes it when you scratch his head.”
“Like this?” She leaned down and rubbed behind his ears.
“Yeah.”
“Do you think he’ll be happy here? I thought huskies liked the
snow?” she asked.
Koda’s tongue lolled to one side of his mouth, and it almost
looked like he was smiling up at her.
“He seems pretty happy to me.”
Vi’s dark hair hung over her shoulder as she bent down and
kissed Koda on the top of his nose.
“Should we head inside?”
“Momma made cornbread and collard greens.” Vi stuck her finger
in her mouth, faking like she wanted to puke.
“I thought you liked collard greens,” I teased, and she gagged.
“No?”
 “I like cornbread, and she did make the chicken with the
mushrooms how I like, but she made those nasty greens for you.”
“I told you, if you put vinegar on them, they taste much better.”
“Barf.”
I pinched her hip, tickling her like I did when we were kids. I
forgot sometimes that she was a grown woman on account of the
fact she didn’t act like one most of the time. When Vi was a little
girl, she used to love to climb the big oak tree that had shaded the
front yard of our old house back in Vero Beach. She was only
thirteen the day she fell. She’d missed the branch she’d been
reaching for and dropped straight down about fifteen feet. The
doctor had said she’d fallen just right, and I remembered thinking he
must have been stupid because there was nothing right about what
had happened to her. Violet had hit her head on an exposed root
and ended up with a traumatic brain injury. She’d lost some
coordinated movement on her left side but wrestled with her
emotions and memory retention the most. Getting easily agitated
when she couldn’t hold a pencil right, or couldn’t remember
something, like forgetting how to read and simple math facts. She
had moments of clarity, but for all intents and purposes, her mind
was much like a teenager’s.
“Just take one bite and Momma won’t give you any hassle,
remember?”
“Yeah, okay.”
I picked up my bags and followed her toward the house, Koda
trotting next to me. Vi ran inside, hollering loud enough to wake the
dead. “Momma, Chance is home.”
The porch stairs creaked under my feet, and when I opened the
screen door Koda scooted past me like he owned the place. My mom
smiled at me from the kitchen as I made my way through the small
living room. Everything looked the same, down to the brown and
orange knit blanket hanging on the back of the couch.
Handing a piece of chicken to the dog, she said, “Welcome
home.”
“Hey, Momma.” I kissed her cheek, and I heard her sigh. “Dad
home?”
 “He’s down at Harley’s buying some fertilizer. He should be back
soon though.” My mom’s shrewd blue eyes assessed me. “How are
you holding up?” she asked, patting my cheek. The soft wrinkles
around her eyes had deepened since the last time I’d seen her.
“I’m good.”
“That is a lie, Chance Davenport.”
“Momma, come on. It is what it is. It’s about time we stop talking
about it, don’t you think?”
She stared at me for a few seconds before she turned to the
stove. Steam billowed from one of the pots, and the smell of collard
greens filled the kitchen as she lifted the lid.
“I don’t understand it, I guess.”
“Mom,” I sighed. “We’ve been over this. And you promised you’d
leave it be.”
“You never called him? The whole time you were in Africa?”
“I tried. Right after I left. He ended it. Ethan wanted a different
life. I wasn’t about to stop him from chasing his dreams, and he
wasn’t about to stop me from chasing my own. Like I said, it is what
it is.”
“But you loved that boy. Still do.” She pointed a wooden spoon at
my chest. “You could reach out, call him. I mean, why not?”
“It’s been eighteen months.”
“So?” Mom was a persistent woman. She’d always said there
wasn’t a problem she couldn’t solve. My parents had given up their
restaurant back in Vero Beach ages ago and drained most of their
money into my sister’s treatment. At one point, we had to live out of
our minivan. But she worked day and night, odd jobs here and
there, until Dad found a steady construction job in Bell River my
senior year. “You never know. Maybe he’s missing you. Maybe he’s
miserable in Atlanta.”
Or maybe he’d moved on. As much as it hurt to think about, I
hoped he had. I hoped he’d found someone who made him the
center of their universe. He deserved that.
“Better to let sleeping dogs lie… isn’t that what Dad says?”
“Your dad is an idiot.”
Other documents randomly have
different content
 “Well, you’ve got quite a bundle to carry, Bert,” remarked Mr. Fink,
the grocer, as he did up the things the boy had bought. “Think you
can manage it all?”
“Oh, yes,” was the answer. “I’ve got to get the stuff home. Don’t
want to go hungry, you know. And it looks as if it was going to snow
some more.”
On his way home with the bundle of food, Bert saw Danny Rugg
just ahead of him. Danny also had his arms filled with bundles, for
he, too, had been to the store. Seeing Bert, Danny stopped and
grinned.
“Plenty of snow for a snowball fight now,” Danny said.
“I haven’t any time to fight,” answered Bert, in no very friendly
tones. He more than half suspected Danny had suggested to Sam
the idea that Bert had broken the church window.
“Aren’t mad, are you?” Danny wanted to know.
Bert was going to answer and say he was not exactly “mad” when
Sam, coming along the street, called to Danny and the latter
hastened off to join his crony.
“I’d just like to find out why you went into the church that time I
fell down the trapdoor,” mused Bert, as he struggled along, for it was
hard going. “It had something to do with the broken window, I’m
sure.”
The wind was rising again and it was very cold. The gale whipped
snowflakes from the ground into Bert’s face with stinging force.
“Maybe we’ll have another blizzard,” he thought. “It sure does
look like more snow,” and he glanced up at the gray clouds.
Bert reached home at last and found Nan trying to amuse Flossie
and Freddie in the house. It was hard work, for the small twins, now
that they could look out and see that the fall of snow had stopped,
at least for a time, wanted to go outside and play in the drifts.
 “I think it will be all right for them to come out with me for a little
while,” suggested Bert, when he saw how Flossie and Freddie were
“pestering” Nan. “They can put on their boots, dress warmly, and I’ll
take care of them.”
“Well, all right,” agreed Nan. “But they mustn’t stay out too long.
Mother wouldn’t let them if she were here.” At the mention of her
absent mother Nan felt her eyes filling with tears, so she quickly
turned her head away.
“Hurray! Hurray! We can go out!” shouted Freddie, capering
about the room like a pony in a pasture.
“And I’m going to make snowballs!” declared Flossie. “But don’t
you dare wash my face, Freddie Bobbsey!”
“All right, I won’t,” he promised, on his good behaviour for a time,
lest Nan change her mind about letting him out.
“Did you get any letters from daddy or mother?” asked Nan, as
Bert put his bundles on the kitchen table.
“No mail, and the wires are down,” he said. “But I guess we’ll get
a letter to-morrow.”
“I hope so,” sighed Nan. “Did you get Mrs. Pry’s liniment?”
“Yes, here it is.”
“I’m glad you got it,” went on Nan. “She’s asked for it two or
three times. Her lumbago seems to be getting worse.”
“Maybe we’ll have to get the doctor for her,” suggested Bert.
“Oh, I hope not,” exclaimed Nan. “If she got very sick, I don’t
know how I could wait on her and look after the house.”
“It would be hard,” agreed Bert. “But maybe everything will be all
right. Now I’ll take Flossie and Freddie out for a while. It will make
them sleep better to-night to have some fresh air.”
He and the small twins had some jolly fun in the snow. Well
wrapped up and with rubber boots which kept their feet and legs
dry, Flossie and Freddie raced about, made snowballs and tossed
them to and fro, and even began to make a snow man.
But it was so cold that the snow did not pack well, or stick
together. Snow must be a trifle wet to roll big balls or build snow
forts and construct snow men to guard them.
However, Flossie and Freddie had lots of fun, and Bert was a good
brother. He let them throw snowballs at him, though it must be said
that Flossie and Freddie did not hit him often, for they could not
throw very straight. And when they did hit Bert the balls did not
hurt.
Then Bert pretended he was a horse and raced about with them
through the drifts until the merry laughs of Flossie and Freddie could
be heard by Nan who was taking Mrs. Pry up some more tea, toast,
and preserves.
“Well, I’m glad they’re having a good time,” sighed Nan. “They’ll
be easier to manage after they’ve had some fun.”
Poor Nan was not having much fun herself. But she was a brave
girl, and she knew she and Bert must keep house until mother and
daddy returned, or at least until Sam or Dinah got back.
No word had been received from either of the faithful colored
servants since they had gone. But this would not have been
surprising, even if the mail trains had been running since neither of
them knew much about writing letters.
Panting and laughing, with rosy-red cheeks, Flossie and Freddie
came into the house with Bert, stamping and brushing the snow off
their feet on the side porch, from which Bert had shoveled most of
the big drift.
“Oh, we had lots of fun!” panted Freddie.
“Lots of fun!” echoed Flossie.
“We’re going out again after we eat,” went on Freddie.
“I’ll see about that,” was all Nan would promise.
 And after she had given the small twins something to eat and had
gotten something for herself and Bert, the latter, going to the
window, exclaimed:
“It’s snowing again!”
And so it was.
“Oh, can’t we go out?” cried Flossie.
“Just for a little while!” begged Freddie, for they seemed to know
that with the white flakes again falling their outdoor fun would end.
“I’ll take them out for just a little while,” said Bert. “They’ll be
easier to manage when they get good and tired,” he whispered to
Nan.
So, once again, the small twins were bundled up, and Bert took
them out in the snow. They played about for a time, but the storm
grew worse quickly, the wind being cold and the snowflakes stinging
the faces of Flossie and Freddie, so that soon they were glad to go
in again.
Just as Bert had thought, letting Flossie and Freddie play out of
doors made the small twins sleepy, and they were ready for bed
much earlier than usual that evening.
Bert and Nan were also tired, so about ten o’clock the Bobbsey
house was quiet and dark, every one being in bed. The last thing
Bert remembered hearing was the howl of the wind outside and the
tinkle of snowflakes against the windows.
“It’s storming hard again,” he said to himself.
And the first thing he heard, when he awakened in the dim, gray
light of morning, was still the noise of the storm.
“It kept up all night,” thought Bert. “My, but the snow will be
deep! And how that wind blows! It shakes the house!”
He was aware of a furious blast howling outside. And really, at
times, the house trembled.
 “Oh, Bert!” called Nan from her room. “Are you awake?”
“Yes, I’m going to get right up.”
“Oh, it’s a terrible storm, isn’t it?”
“Yes, I guess it’s pretty bad,” admitted her brother. “But we’ll be
all right.”
Hardly had he spoken than the wind howled louder than ever, and
to the ears of the Bobbsey twins came the sound of a great crash. It
was the noise of breaking wood and shattered glass.
“What’s that?” cried Nan.
 CHAPTER XVII

BERT FALLS OFF

Bert Bobbsey did not know what had caused that crashing sound
any more than did Nan. For a few moments he was frightened, as
was his sister. Certainly that crash was enough to scare any one,
coming as it did in the midst of the storm. And when you take four
children, none of them very old, and put them in a house all alone,
except for Aunt Sallie Pry, ill in bed, there is some reason for them to
be afraid.
“Oh, what was it?” cried Nan again. “There it goes some more!”
she went on, as the banging, crashing sound repeated itself. “What
is it, Bert?”
“I don’t know,” he answered. “But I’ll soon find out.”
By this time Flossie and Freddie had been awakened. They, too,
heard the terrifying noise and the banging which jarred the house.
“Maybe that’s Santa Claus coming down the chimney,” suggested
Flossie.
“It’s too early for Santa Claus,” called Freddie as he quickly began
to dress. “But maybe it’s an airship, Bert, and it banged into our
chimney. It sounds like a chimney, doesn’t it?”
“It sounds like almost anything,” Bert answered as he made haste
in putting on his clothes.
In her room Aunt Sallie had caught the word “chimney,” spoken
by Flossie and Freddie, but she had not heard what else the small
twins said. She did hear the banging sound, however, and she
called:
“Oh, Nan, what is it? Is the chimney on fire? If it is, throw a lot of
salt in the stove. Salt will put out chimney fires,” which was true
enough, only the chimney was not blazing—at least, Bert and Nan
hoped it was not.
Nan answered the old lady, saying:
“We don’t know what it is, Aunt Sallie. I don’t believe the chimney
is on fire. Bert is going to look.”
“Oh, Bert dropped a book, did he?” exclaimed Mrs. Pry. “Well,
that’s all right—you can’t help dropping things once in a while, and
you can’t break a book by dropping it. But it must have been a very
large book to make so much noise.”
“Ho! Ho!” silently laughed Freddie as he was dressing with his
brother. “She thought Nan said a book, but she said you were going
to look.”
“Don’t laugh,” whispered Bert. “Aunt Sallie can’t help being deaf.”
And as they did not want to agitate the old lady, neither Nan nor
Bert told her that something worse had happened than the mere
dropping of a book.
That some danger was at hand Nan and Bert were very sure. The
crashing, banging sound kept up, and at times the whole house
shivered and shook, and it was not the wind which was doing this,
either.
“Bert, I am afraid!” whispered Nan, as she and her brother met in
the hall outside their rooms. Flossie and Freddie had followed them.
“You needn’t be afraid,” Bert answered, quite bravely for a boy of
his size. “I’ll soon see what it is.”
“Maybe somebody rolled a big snowball on our stoop,” suggested
Freddie.
 “Or else a big icicle fell,” added Flossie “Is it snowing yet, Nan?”
“Yes, it’s snowing hard, and the wind is blowing. But, Bert,” she
added, “I believe Flossie and Freddie are right—the noise is outside,
it isn’t in the house.”
“It does sound outside,” Bert said. “Let’s listen a minute.”
They stood quietly in the hall. Mrs. Pry, believing it was a book
that had fallen which made the noise, was waiting patiently in bed
until Nan should bring her a cup of coffee.
And as the twins listened there came to their ears that banging
sound again, and this time it clearly came from the front of the
house and not far from where they stood. Mrs. Pry heard the noise
too, and she must have felt the house tremble.
“Is Bert dropping more books?” she called.
“I’ll bring your coffee right away,” Nan answered, thinking this
was the best thing to say, rather than to speak of their fears.
“Yes, my dear, I’ll feel better after some coffee,” said the old lady.
“The noise comes from there,” and Nan pointed, as she
whispered, to the big front “spare,” or guest, room of the house.
“I’ll go in and see what it is,” offered Bert. “You shut Aunt Sallie’s
door so she won’t get nervous.”
It was well Nan did this, for as soon as Bert opened the door of
the guest bedroom, out blew a blast of cold air, followed by a cloud
of snow. In a glance Nan, Bert and the smaller twins saw what had
happened.
A big branch from a tree in front of the house had broken off and
had crashed through the front window of the bedroom, breaking out
all the glass. Through this opening the cold wind was blowing the
snow, until there was a pile of the white flakes on the floor. The limb
was not broken entirely off the tree, but hung by a few shreds of
wood. It was as though it was on a hinge, like a door, and each time
the wind blew the branch swayed to and fro, banging against the
side of the house and on the porch roof, which extended across the
front of the house, and beneath the guest-room windows.
“That’s what made the noise!” cried Freddie, pointing.
“And look at the snow on the floor!” exclaimed Flossie. “I’m going
to make a snowball!”
“No you aren’t!” cried Nan, catching her little sister by the arm as
she was about to dash into the room. “Oh, Bert, what are we going
to do?” Nan asked. “The window is all smashed.”
“And maybe that branch will poke a hole in the side of the house,”
added Freddie, as the wind, swaying the limb, banged it up against
the window frame. There was no more glass left to break.
“I’ll soon fix this!” cried Bert. “I’ll get a hatchet and chop the
branch loose. Then it won’t bang any more.”
“But you can’t put in a new window!” said Nan.
“We can tack a blanket or something over it, and that will keep
out the snow and wind,” decided Bert. “I’ll get a hatchet!”
It seemed to be the only thing to do. For, as Freddie had said, the
branch, if left to sway to and fro, would keep hitting against the side
of the house and might in time break the clapboards and smash a
hole through the plaster.
“Can you chop that branch off?” asked Nan, anxiously.
“Sure!” declared her brother. “I’ll just get out on the porch roof,
and I’ll soon cut through that limb. It only hangs by a few shreds.
It’ll be easy.”
Nan saw what Bert meant to do. They went a little way into the
guest room, but it was so cold, now that the window was smashed,
and the wind blew the snow about with such swirling gusts that Nan
thought the small twins might catch cold.
“Come out and we’ll shut the door,” she called, pulling Flossie and
Freddie toward her. “That will keep the rest of the house from
getting freezing cold until we can tack a blanket over the window.”
“I’m going to help! Can’t I, Bert?” asked Freddie.
“I’ll see,” was all Bert would promise. “You go ahead and make
the coffee for Aunt Sallie, Nan, while I get the hatchet.”
“And I want my breakfast!” cried Flossie.
“So do I,” chimed in Freddie.
“Now, just go easy,” advised Nan. “I can’t do everything at once.
Oh, dear,” she sighed, “so many things are happening! I do wish
mother and daddy would come back!”
“Oh, we’ll get along all right,” replied Bert. “This isn’t anything.
’Tisn’t half as bad as if the chimney had fallen down, for then we
couldn’t have any fire.”
“No, I suppose not,” agreed Nan. “But I’ll be glad when you get
that limb chopped off. Listen to it bang!”
As she spoke the wind suddenly whistled around the house in a
burst of freezing air, howling and moaning, while the swaying tree
branch banged louder than ever.
“Nan! Bert! I’m sure that was the chimney blowing down!” cried
Aunt Sallie, for Nan had opened her door when they came out of the
cold guest chamber.
“No, it’s only a tree branch near the house banging against the
side,” Nan answered.
“What’s that you say? You’re going to take the children for a ride?
Oh, I wouldn’t do that so early in the morning, Nan. It must be very
cold,” said Aunt Sallie.
“No, no! I said that noise was a tree branch banging against the
side of the house,” repeated Nan in louder tones.
“Oh, a tree branch,” murmured the old lady. “I thought it was
some one knocking at the door. Is my coffee ready, dearie?”
“I’ll have it for you right away,” was the answer.
 So Nan made Aunt Sallie a hot drink while Bert went down in the
cellar to get a sharp hatchet with which to cut loose the dangling
tree branch. Nan managed to keep Flossie and Freddie quiet by
letting them set the table for breakfast.
When she took up Aunt Sallie’s coffee and toast, Bert followed up
the stairs, having put on his rubber boots, mittens, and a warm
jacket. For he would have to climb out on the snowy roof to cut the
tree limb.
As soon as he opened the door out rushed more cold wind and
snow. But he quickly closed it again, and Nan waited until he was
inside before she opened Aunt Sallie’s door, which she had gone up
to close just before Bert was ready to begin.
On the carpet beneath the broken window was a pile of glass and
snow. Nearly all the glass was broken out of the window, only a few
jagged pieces remaining, and these Bert knocked out with his
hatchet so they would not cut him as he crawled through.
The dangling branch was half way across the window, but there
was room enough for Bert to dodge through without getting hit by
the swaying limb. Once out on the sloping porch roof, covered as it
was by a blanket of snow, the Bobbsey lad looked up to see the best
place to start cutting.
As he had said, the branch was attached to the part that was not
broken off by only a few shreds of wood. Chopping through these
would cause the branch to fall, and it could then be pushed off the
roof. But the place where he must do the cutting was above Bert’s
head.
“I’ve got to get something to stand on,” he decided.
He looked around inside the room and saw a small box. In it Mrs.
Bobbsey had packed away the lace curtains for the guest room. And
when the curtains had been hung the box had not been taken out.
“I’ll stand on that,” Bert decided. He pulled the lace curtains of
the window to one side. The curtains were wet with snow, but Bert
thought he and Nan could take them down and dry them later in the
day.
Bert first put the box out on the porch roof in the snow. Then he
crawled out himself. As he did so the wind swayed the branch and it
nearly hit him, but he managed to scramble out of the way.
Then, standing on the box, he began to chop at the shreds of the
swaying branch. It was hard work, but the boy kept at it. The sharp
hatchet shaved through the thin wood.
“One more shot, and down you’ll come!” exclaimed Bert.
He aimed a hard blow at what was left of the shreds. The hatchet
cut through them and the branch fell to the porch roof. No longer
would it bang against the house.
But in making his last stroke, Bert reached over too far. He felt
himself slipping. The box on which he stood slipped on the snow of
the roof.
The next moment Bert toppled over, fell on his side, and went
rolling toward the edge of the slanting roof.
“Here I go!” he cried, trying to hold himself back.
But there was nothing which he could grasp, and an instant later
he slid over the edge of the roof.
 CHAPTER XVIII

AUNT SALLIE IS WORSE

While Nan Bobbsey was putting breakfast on the table for Flossie
and Freddie, and also for herself and Bert, the smaller twins were
amusing themselves by running to and fro in the house. They ran
into the front room, up to the windows, out of which they looked at
the storm, and then they ran back into the dining room.
“Don’t make so much noise!” begged Nan, while she wondered
how Bert was getting along with cutting off the tree branch.
“We’re playing horse,” explained Freddie. “Horses have to make
noise.”
“He’s the horse and I’m the driver,” said Flossie.
“Come on!” cried her twin brother. “We have to go to a fire now!”
Into the front room the smaller twins raced again, and as they
reached the windows they saw Bert fall off the roof. They knew it
was their brother.
“Oh! Oh!” screamed Flossie. “Look at Bert!”
Freddie gazed for a moment. Then he rushed back to the dining
room where Nan was putting the oatmeal on the table and cried:
“Bert jumped off the roof! Bert jumped off the roof into a
snowdrift in the front yard! Oh, Nan, you ought to see him!”
Nan gazed wide-eyed at her small brother. Why should Bert jump
off the roof, especially when he had a sharp hatchet? Perhaps
something worse than this had happened.
 Nan hurried into the front room, followed by Freddie. Flossie was
still at the window looking out.
“Bert’s stuck in a snowdrift,” she reported. “Look, he can hardly
get out!”
And this was true. So deep was the snow in front of the house,
and so far down in the drift had Bert plunged when he toppled off
the roof, that it was all the boy could do to scramble out. Still he was
making headway, floundering about to reach the front steps.
Nan ran to the door and opened it.
“Bert Bobbsey!” she cried. “What did you want to jump off the
roof for?”
“I didn’t jump,” Bert said, somewhat out of breath as at last he
managed to free his legs and reach the porch.
“Freddie says you jumped,” went on Nan.
“No I didn’t! I fell,” panted Bert. “I cut the tree branch—and—
then I slipped—off the box. I was standing on a box. I rolled—off—
the roof—but I’m not hurt because I—fell in a snow bank.”
“Oh, I’m glad of that!” exclaimed Nan.
“You are?” cried Bert, with a laugh. “Well, you wouldn’t be glad if
you had as much snow down your back as I’ve got down mine!”
“Oh, I didn’t mean that!” Nan exclaimed. “I mean I’m glad you
didn’t get hurt.”
“So’m I,” said Bert. “Falling in the snowdrift, even off the porch
roof, was like landing in a feather bed.”
“The hatchet might have cut you,” went on his sister.
“I dropped that up on the roof when I fell, I guess,” stated Bert.
“Well, anyhow, I cut the branch loose, and it won’t bang any more.
Now we’ve got to nail a blanket over the window so the wind and
snow won’t blow in.”
“You better have your breakfast first,” Nan suggested.
 “No, I’m all snow now and I might as well finish,” decided Bert.
“But I guess you’ll have to help me put the blanket on, Nan. I can’t
hold both sides up at once.”
“I’ll do that,” his sister agreed.
“We’ll help, too!” cried Freddie, speaking for himself and his twin
sister.
“No, you two get your breakfast,” decided Nan. “It’s all on the
table ready for you. And be good children, now.”
“We will,” promised Flossie. “I’ll let Freddie eat out of my oatmeal
dish if he wants to.”
“Each of you has a dish,” laughed Nan. “There’s no need of
sharing them. Now come on, Bert, and we’ll fix that window.”
Nan knew where her mother kept the extra bed clothes, and from
the closet she took a heavy woolen blanket. Bert got some big tacks
from his father’s tool box down in the cellar, and then the two older
Bobbsey twins began work to keep out the wintry blast which
seemed to howl with glee as it rushed through the broken window.
Bert found where he had dropped the hatchet in the snow on the
roof before he rolled off.
“I’ll bring that in to hammer with, and we can stand on the box,”
he told Nan.
“Oh, what a lot of snow on the carpet! And broken glass, too!”
exclaimed the girl. “Mother would feel badly if she saw this.”
“I’ll clean it up as soon as we get the blanket tacked on,” said
Bert.
It was not easy for him and Nan to put up the heavy blanket and
tack it fast to the sides of the window. For the wind would blow hard
every now and then, spreading the blanket out like a sail of a boat.
But at last they managed to get it in place, and then the wind could
no longer enter, nor did any more snow sift in.
 “We’ll have to get a glass man to fix the window,” said Nan.
“Can’t get anybody until after this storm is over,” was Bert’s
opinion. “A glass man might fall off the roof and break the new pane
he brought. I guess this will be all right for a while. Nobody sleeps in
here, anyhow.”
“Yes,” agreed Nan, “it will be all right. It doesn’t matter if this
room is cold.”
Bert got broom and dustpan and cleaned up the snow before it
should melt on the carpet. He also picked up the broken pieces of
glass, taking care not to cut his fingers, and put them in an ash can
in the cellar.
“And now I guess it’s time I had my breakfast,” he decided, when
everything had been made as nearly right as possible.
“I’ll eat with you,” said Nan.
“Haven’t you had your breakfast, either?” asked Bert, in surprise.
“I haven’t had time,” explained Nan. “I had to look after Aunt
Sallie and the twins.”
She and Bert were on their way to the dining room, when
suddenly they heard the voices of Flossie and Freddie.
“Stop! Now you stop, Freddie Bobbsey! Quit, I’ll tell Dinah on
you!” Flossie wailed.
“Dinah isn’t here!” retorted Freddie.
“Guess those two need more looking after,” laughed Bert to Nan.
“Oh, they’re always up to something!” she sighed, as she hurried
into the dining room.
Nan and Bert saw Freddie trying to pull away from Flossie the
oatmeal dish the little girl had been using. Flossie was clinging to
one side of it, and at the same time shouting:
“Stop! Stop! Now you stop, Freddie Bobbsey!”
 “Give me the dish! Let me have it!” insisted the little boy.
“Stop, Freddie!” called Nan. “Why are you trying to take away
Flossie’s dish?”
“She’s through with it. She’s eaten up all her oatmeal,” Freddie
said. “I’m going to take the dish out in the kitchen and wash it.”
“No, you mustn’t do that,” said Nan.
“I want to help you wash the dishes!”
“Thank you, dear, but I don’t need any help this morning,” Nan
said.
“And he sha’n’t have my dish! I haven’t eaten all my oatmeal!”
wailed Flossie.
“Oh, you did so eat it all up! There isn’t any left!” exclaimed
Freddie.
“There is so!” retorted Flossie, trying hard to pull the dish away
from her brother. “There’s sugar and milk in my dish and I want it,
Freddie Bobbsey.”
Bert had a look in the dish over which there was such a dispute.
There was only a very little milk on the bottom—hardly a spoonful.
But sometimes Flossie could be very fussy over little things, and this
was one of those occasions.
“Her dish is empty and it ought to be washed,” Freddie said, and
he would not let go his hold until Bert took his fingers off, saying:
“Come on, Freddie, I’ll let you help me make the water wheel as
soon as I’ve had something to eat. Let the girls do the dishes.”
“Oh, all right,” agreed the little boy. Then to Flossie he cried:
“Girls are cry babies and they have to wash dishes! Boys make
things, and I’m going to make a water wheel!”
“I am not a cry baby, am I, Nan?” appealed Flossie.
 “No, dear, you aren’t, of course,” Nan answered. “You mustn’t call
names, Freddie.”
“Well, then why didn’t she let me take her dish out when it was
empty?” the little boy wanted to know.
“’Tisn’t empty! I’m going to eat the rest of my oatmeal,” said
Flossie, and she began to scrape up with her spoon what little milk
remained. There was hardly enough to show, but Flossie made as
much work over it as though the dish were half full.
“You can help me with the dishes, Flossie, as soon as Bert and I
have our breakfast,” Nan said, and this pleased the little girl. And
Freddie forgot about his dispute with Flossie when he thought of
helping Bert with the water wheel.
The storm kept up all that morning, and it was so severe that
though Bert wanted to go to the post-office to inquire if any mail
had come in, Nan would not let him.
“You might get stuck in a drift and never get back,” she said.
“Pooh! I guess I could get out of a drift!” laughed Bert. “Didn’t I
get out of the one I fell into off the roof?”
But Nan was so worried over the storm and about being left alone
that Bert said he would stay at home.
It was still snowing at noon when Nan served lunch. Though as
she looked in the pantry she said to herself:
“Somebody will have to go to the store to-morrow or we’ll not
have much to eat. I don’t believe the stores will deliver anything. But
maybe Bert can get out in the morning if the snow stops.”
After Nan had seen to it that things were put on the table for
Bert, Flossie and Freddie, she carried something up to Aunt Sallie,
without waiting to get anything for herself.
As Nan entered the old lady’s room she saw Mrs. Pry tossing from
side to side in the bed, just as Nan had once seen Flossie toss in a
fever.
 “Who—who is that?” murmured Mrs. Pry in a faint voice, as Nan
set the tray of food down on a table near the bed. “Is that the
doctor?”
“No. This is Nan Bobbsey,” said the little girl. “Don’t you know me,
Aunt Sallie?” She feared the old lady was out of her head with fever.
“Oh, yes, I know you, Nan,” was the low answer. “But I thought
you were the doctor. When is the doctor coming?”
“Why, I don’t know,” and Nan was puzzled. “Did you want me to
send for the doctor?”
“Yes, dearie, I wish you would. I called down to you to send for
him, but I guess you didn’t hear me.”
“Flossie and Freddie were making so much noise, I guess I didn’t
hear you,” said Nan. “But I’ll get the doctor right away, if you think
you want him.”
“I’d better have him, Nan. I’m much worse, I fear. I’m very sick
and the lumbago is worse. That liniment doesn’t seem to help me
any. Send for the doctor. Dr. Martin is the best one, and he doesn’t
live far from here.”
“I’ll have Bert telephone for him right away,” promised Nan. “And
see, I have brought you up something to eat.”
“I’m too sick to eat, dearie,” moaned Aunt Sallie. “Get the doctor
as soon as you can.”
Nan hurried downstairs and told Bert. He went to the telephone,
but after waiting some time he heard no voice of the operator asking
what number he wanted.
“I guess the telephone wires are broken, Nan,” he said. “I’ll have
to go over to Dr. Martin’s house to tell him to come.”
“Oh, dear!” sighed Nan, and she looked out of the window at the
storm which was still raging fiercely.
 CHAPTER XIX

IN CHURCH AGAIN
There was no help for it. If the doctor was to come to Aunt Sallie
to help her, Bert must go after him. The telephone would not work.
“It isn’t far,” Bert said to Nan when he had tried several more
times to get an answer from the telephone operator. “I can soon
push my way down to Dr. Martin’s office.”
“Maybe he won’t come back with you,” suggested Nan. “Maybe
he’ll think the storm is too bad for him to come out in.”
“Doctors aren’t that way,” declared Bert. “They go out in any kind
of a storm when anybody is sick.”
So he made ready to go out, again putting on his boots and
getting out his long overcoat and mittens.
In order to leave his legs free, when he was chopping at the tree
branch Bert had put on a short “pea jacket,” as sailors call them. But
now to venture out on the streets in the storm, he decided his
longer overcoat would be best.
Inside the warm, cosy house the storm had not seemed quite as
terrible as it was to Bert when he stepped outside. At first the wind
nearly took away his breath, and the snowflakes, tossed this way
and that way by the wintry blast, stung the boy’s cheeks.
But he laughed and shouted, pretending that he was a soldier
fighting the storm, and he floundered out into the drifts and down
toward Dr. Martin’s house. There were very few persons out in the
tempest, which was, in fact, a blizzard. Bert saw no one whom he
knew, but a man who was tramping his way through the snow called
to the boy:
“Quite a storm!”
“That’s right,” panted Bert, stopping to get his breath.
“More wires down than before,” the man went on. “And a lot of
trains are stuck in the snow.”
Bert felt a sinking feeling in his heart, and he hoped his father
and mother had not started back from Uncle Rossiter’s only to be
snowed-in. Bert decided he would say nothing to Nan about what
this man had told him.
Floundering on through the snow, falling down once, but getting
up quickly again with a laugh, Bert at last reached the doctor’s
house and rang the bell. A maid let him in the office.
“The doctor will see you in a few minutes,” she said.
“I don’t want him to see me,” replied Bert. “I’m not sick. It’s Aunt
Sallie Pry. She’s staying at our house and she has the lumbago.”
The maid smiled at the boy, and the doctor, who happened to be
in the next room, opened the door, for Bert had spoken rather
loudly.
“Oh, Bert, it’s you, is it?” asked Dr. Martin, for he knew the
Bobbsey twins. “What’s the trouble at your house?”
Bert told him, mentioning that his father and mother, as well as
Sam and Dinah, were away.
“And you twins are keeping house all alone, are you?” asked the
doctor.
“Sure we are,” said Bert, a bit proudly.
“Well, you’re a fine family of children, I’ll say that for you!” said
Dr. Martin admiringly. “I’ll come over and see what I can do for Aunt
Sallie in a little while.”
“Bring something for the lumbago,” advised Bert.
 “Yes, I’ll do that,” the doctor promised, laughing. “And don’t get
stuck in a snowdrift going back, Bert.”
“I won’t,” said the boy. “But I was stuck in one early this
morning,” and he told about having fallen off the roof.
Out again into the storm stepped Bert Bobbsey. Back over the
way he had come he floundered again. When a little way from home
he heard a faint mewing sound.
“It’s a cat!” cried Bert. “I wonder if that could be our cat Snoop
come back?” For Snoop, with Snap, the dog, had been sent away to
an animal doctor’s for a time. The mewing of the cat sounded more
plainly, and Bert looked around.
Then, up in a tree, but not far above the ground, he saw a little
maltese kitten.
“Oh, you poor little cat!” exclaimed Bert. “I guess you’re lost in
the storm. I’ll take you home.”
He reached up, and, by standing on his tiptoes, managed to get
hold of the pussy. She dug her claws into the bark of the tree, for
she was afraid of falling. But Bert gently pulled her loose, and then
cuddled her in his arms, murmuring:
“Oh, you’re a nice little kitten! I’m glad I found you! Flossie and
Freddie will just love you and Nan will give you some warm milk. I
guess you got out of some house and don’t know how to get back.”
However, there were no houses very near the tree in which Bert
had found the little cat. So, not knowing to whom she belonged he
took her home with him. At first the pussy mewed pitifully as Bert
cuddled her in his arms. But soon she began to purr contentedly.
“Now you’re happy,” said the boy.
Nan opened the side door for Bert, for she was watching for him
to come back, and at first she did not see the cat.
“Is the doctor coming?” Nan wanted to know.
 “He’ll be here in a little while,” was the answer.
Then the pussy in Bert’s arms moved and Nan caught sight of the
bright eyes and the little tail waving.
“Oh, the darling!” she cried. “Where did you get her, Bert?”
“Found her mewing up in a tree.”
By this time Flossie and Freddie, having heard Bert enter, ran to
greet him, and they, too, saw the pussy.
“Oh, can I have her?” Flossie wanted to know, reaching up to
stroke the animal in Bert’s arms.
“Is that Snoop growed little?” Freddie asked, for Snoop was a
very big cat.
“This is Snowflake—a new cat,” Bert answered. “I named her
Snowflake because I got her out in the snowstorm.”
“Oh, I just love her!” cried Flossie. “Please let me hold
Snowflake!”
“I want to hold her, too,” broke in Freddie.
“Now look here!” said Bert, somewhat sternly. “There must be no
pulling this pussy apart by you two to see who’s going to hold her.
You must take turns. As soon as I hear you disputing over the pussy
I’ll put her back in the tree where I found her.”
This was such a terrible thing to think of having happen that
Flossie and Freddie were quite alarmed.
“I won’t pull the pussy,” promised Freddie.
“And I won’t, either,” said Flossie. “Freddie, you can take her now
for a little while, if you like. And I’ll take a turn afterward.”
“All right, Flossie, thank you,” said Freddie politely.
Very gently he took the pussy in his arms, and Nan and Bert
looked at each other, smiling over the heads of the smaller Bobbsey
children.
 “It’s a good thing you said that to them, or else they’d be
disputing all the while,” whispered Nan. “Now they’ll be quiet for a
time.”
Dr. Martin came in a little while and went up to see Mrs. Pry.
“Where does it hurt you the most?” he asked the old lady.
“What’s that?” cried Aunt Sallie, sitting up in bed. “You say you
fell over a post? I hope you didn’t get hurt, Dr. Martin.”
“No, I didn’t fall over a post,” said the doctor, and then he looked
up to see Nan behind Mrs. Pry’s back motioning to her ears, to let
him know the old lady was deaf. “I asked you where the pain hurt
most?”
“Oh, the pain—yes. You don’t speak as loudly as you used to, Dr.
Martin, or else my hearing is getting bad. Why, the pain mostly is in
my back.”
The doctor then asked her other questions and left some
medicine for her, saying he thought she would be better in a few
days.
“Keep her warm,” he told Nan, as he was leaving, having
promised to come the next day. “Heat is the best thing for lumbago.”
“I’ve been giving her hot flatirons for her back,” Nan explained.
“That’s a good idea—keep it up,” said Dr. Martin. “And how are
you getting on with your housekeeping, alone as you are?”
“Oh, pretty well,” Nan said. “Of course we’re lonesome without
father and mother. And when the window got smashed early this
morning we were all frightened. But Bert fixed it.”
“Yes, and he nearly fixed himself at the same time,” laughed the
doctor as he remembered what Bert had told him about falling off
the porch roof. “Well, good-bye and good luck,” he said, as he went
out into the storm. “And keep Aunt Sallie warm.”
 Nan felt better, now that the doctor had called, and she was glad
Flossie and Freddie had the kitten to play with. But soon Freddie
came to Nan in the kitchen and said:
“Snowflake is hungry. She wants some milk, I guess.”
“We haven’t any milk, except sweetened condensed, and I don’t
believe she’ll like that,” Nan said. “I wish we had some fresh milk
and some other things from the store.”
“I’ll go,” offered Bert. “It isn’t snowing quite so hard now.”
This was true. The flakes were not falling quite so fast and the
wind had gone down a little. So Nan thought it would be all right for
Bert to venture out. Freddie, of course, wanted to go, but it was not
hard to persuade him to stay in to help Flossie look after Snowflake.
Nan told Bert what to buy at the store and gave him a basket in
which to carry the groceries.
“I’ll stop at the post-office and see if there’s any mail in yet,”
decided the Bobbsey boy as once more he went out into the snow.
He went to the post-office first, and was much disappointed when
he learned that there were no letters for him or Nan.
“The trains snowed up yet?” asked Bert.
“Most of them must be,” said the postmaster. “Anyhow, no mail
has come in. Maybe there’ll be some to-morrow.”
Bert certainly hoped so, and he could not help worrying about his
father and mother. They might be in a train that was buried deep in
a great heap of snow, and there might be nothing to eat in the cars.
“I wish they’d come home,” sighed Bert.
He found several men and boys in the store, buying things to eat,
for it had not been possible to make any deliveries. Charlie Mason
was there, getting things for his folks.
“Say, it’s fun, not to have to go to school, isn’t it?” asked Charlie.
 “Yes, some fun,” Bert admitted. “But I guess it will open in a few
days now. This storm can’t last much longer.”
“No, I guess not,” answered Charlie. “Seen anything of Danny
Rugg?”
“Yes, I saw him the other day,” Bert answered. “But I don’t like
him any more.”
“Nor I,” agreed Charlie. “Danny is getting bad again—like he used
to be.”
The two boys parted outside the store, Charlie going one way
with his basket of food, and Bert the other. And it was when Bert
came in front of the church—the same church where the window
had been broken—that Bert once more saw Danny Rugg.
This time the young bully did not see Bert, for Danny was intent
on slipping in the side door of the church, which was open. Danny
also had a basket of food.
“Say, this is queer!” murmured Bert to himself. “What’s he going
into the church again for? I’m going to find out. Maybe he’s going to
try to mend that broken window,” and Bert looked up at the stained
glass. It had not yet been repaired, a plain piece of white glass
having been put over the hole.
Waiting a moment, until Danny was inside the church, Bert softly
followed. He set his basket of groceries down in the vestibule, stood
still and listened.
He heard Danny tramping up to the balcony.
“Now I’ll catch him at whatever he’s up to,” whispered Bert to
himself. “And I’m not going to fall down any trapdoors, either!”
 CHAPTER XX

DANNY’S RING
Bert knew that he must be very careful and cautious this time.
Not only must he watch out for the open trapdoor, but he must take
care that Danny neither saw nor heard him.
“For if he hears me,” said Bert to himself, “he’ll run out and then I
can’t find why he came in here. Danny’s smart, but I’ve got to be
smarter.”
Moving slowly across the vestibule floor and looking back to see
that his basket of groceries was safe, Bert soon reached a place
where he knew the trapdoor to be.
“It’s closed,” he told himself. “That’s good! No danger now of
falling down. And I hope nobody else comes in here. They might
take the things in my basket, and Nan and the others would go
hungry. But I guess I’d have to go back to the store and get more,”
silently chuckled Bert.
Having made sure that the trapdoor, down which he had fallen on
his previous visit to the church, was closed, Bert stood near it for a
while and listened. He could hear Danny moving about “upstairs,” as
you might call it, though really it was in the gallery of the church.
This gallery held the big pipe organ, which made such thunderous
music on Sundays, and in this gallery the choir singers also had their
places.
The remainder of the balcony was given over to pews for the
congregation to sit in, when the pews on the main floor of the
church were filled. The boys always liked to sit up in the balcony, for
they seemed off by themselves when they did this. But the ushers
and some of the deacons did not like the boys to go to the gallery,
for fear the lads would “cut up.” And sometimes this very thing
happened. And you may easily guess that Danny Rugg was among
the “cut-ups.”
“Maybe that’s the reason he’s going up there now,” thought Bert
to himself. “Maybe he’s getting ready to play some trick in church
next Sunday—he and Sam Todd. He couldn’t be coming up to mend
the broken window. He wouldn’t know how to put in all the different
pieces of colored glass, and, anyhow, he didn’t have any glass with
him when he came in here.”
Bert’s thought that Danny might be preparing for some trick to be
played in church the following Sunday came about because once
before, about a year ago, Danny and Sam had hidden a little dog up
in the gallery one Saturday night. And the following Sunday, when
the minister was preaching, the dog crawled out from beneath a
pew, walked downstairs and up the middle aisle of the church, much
to the amusement of Danny and his cronies.
But the deacons and the minister did not like this, for it disturbed
the congregation, and of course it was a wrong thing for Danny to
have done.
Because of that trick, the boys had been forbidden to go up in the
gallery unless their parents were with them. All this Bert thought of
as he stood in the silent church, trying to find out what it was that
Danny had come in about.
“I’ll follow after him as easy as I can,” said Bert to himself.
“Maybe I can watch him. But I mustn’t let him see me.”
Bert wore his rubber boots. So, for that matter, did Danny Rugg,
for the snow was so deep that boots were needed. But Bert walked
more softly in his boots than did Danny, who tramped around in the
balcony as if he did not care who heard him. Bert went on his
tiptoes, and the rubber soles of his boots made very little noise.
 Up the balcony stairs the Bobbsey boy followed the other lad. It
was very still and quiet in the church, and the footsteps of Danny
echoed with a strange, hollow sound. On account of the snow
covering the ground outside there was no noise of rattling wagons or
trucks, so the church was even more quiet than usual.
How different it was from Sundays, when the people were coming
in or going out, when the place was lighted, and when there was
organ music and singing.
“I don’t like church on week days,” thought Bert.
But he had come in for a special purpose, and he was going to
carry it out. Step after step he went up to the gallery floor, making
no noise. He could still hear Danny moving about.
At last Bert reached a place where, in the dim light that came
through the stained-glass window, he could see Danny walking along
between the rows of pews.
“He’s right near the broken window,” whispered Bert to himself.
“And he’s looking on the floor for something. I wonder what it is? He
can’t be looking for the broken bits of stained glass, to put them
back—they were picked up long ago. I wonder what it is he’s looking
for?”
Danny was certainly looking for something. He bent over and let
his eyes rove about the floor, right under the window that had been
broken. Closely and carefully Danny searched.
Then, almost as if some one had shouted it at him, there came
into Bert’s mind the thought:
“Danny’s looking for his lost birthday ring! It must have slipped
off his finger in one of the snowballs he threw that day of the first
storm. The gold ring stuck in the snowball, and Danny threw the
snowball at the window! The ball broke the glass and came inside
the balcony here. And Danny must know that! He hasn’t found his
ring anywhere else, and he knows it must have been in that
snowball!”
 The idea excited Bert and made his heart beat faster.
“When the snowball melted,” thought Bert, still watching Danny
eagerly, “the ring would drop out on the floor and stay there. It’s his
ring that Danny’s searching for!”
Bert grew so excited at this thought that he made a sudden
movement. His foot slipped and banged against a pew.
“What’s that?” cried Danny, jumping up. “Who’s there?”
Bert was quick enough to dodge down behind one of the pews,
so that when Danny looked up he saw no one.
But though Danny saw no one, he was frightened because of the
noise, and, not stopping any longer to search for his lost ring, or
whatever it was he was looking for, he darted out of the balcony and
down the stairs, with many a clatter of his rubber boots.
“Say, he’s running like a scared rabbit!” chuckled Bert to himself.
“I wish I dared yell at him, so he’d know who it is that’s looking at
him. But I guess I’d better not. I want to see if his ring is here.”
Pausing not to look back, Danny ran down to the main floor and
out of the side door.
“I hope he doesn’t take my basket of groceries,” thought Bert. But
he remembered he had set it over in a dark corner, where it would
not be likely to be seen. And, as a matter of fact, Danny Rugg was
so frightened that he thought of nothing but taking his own basket
of food and hurrying out of the church.
Bert heard the door slam after the other boy, and then the
Bobbsey lad began to wonder what was the best thing to do.
“If Danny’s ring is there and I find it, I can prove that he threw
the snowball that broke the window,” said Bert to himself. “But even
if I pick up the ring on the balcony floor, Danny might say I found it
somewhere else and put it there. I ought to have some one with me
when I find it—if I do—and whoever’s with me can say I didn’t put it
there. I’ve got to get some one to help me.”