LITMIR.BIZ

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never mind, Freddie, there are plenty of others in the cellar,” declared Nan. “It was an accident, Dinah,” she added, to the cook.

      “Eberyt’ing in dis house wot happens is an accident,” grumbled the cook, and went off to get the dustpan and broom. As soon as the muss had been cleared away Nan cut out the red table cover for Freddie, which made him forget the loss of the “lilac tree” and the “boiler.”

      “Let us make a row of houses,” suggested Flossie. “Bert’s big house can be at the head of the street.” And this suggestion was carried out. Fortunately, more pasteboard boxes were to be had, and from these they made shade trees and some benches, and Bert cut out a pasteboard horse and cart. To be sure, the horse did not look very lifelike, but they all played it was a horse and that was enough. When the work was complete they called Dinah in to admire it, which she did standing near the doorway with her fat hands resting on her hips.

      “I do declar’, it looks most tremend’us real,” said the cook. “It’s a wonder to me yo’ chillun can make sech t’ings.”

      “We learned it in the kindergarten class at school,” answered Nan.

      “Yes, in the kindergarten,” put in Flossie.

      “But we don’t make fire engines there,” came from Freddie.

      At this Dinah began to laugh, shaking from head to foot.

      “Fire enjuns, am it, Freddie? Reckon yo’ is gwine to be a fireman when yo’ is a man, hey?”

      “Yes, I’m going to be a real fireman,” was the ready answer.

      “An’ what am yo’ gwine to be, Master Bert?”

      “Oh, I’m going to be a soldier,” said Bert.

      “I want to be a soldier, too,” put in Freddie. “A soldier and a fireman.”

      “Oh, dear, I shouldn’t want to be a soldier and kill folks,” said Nan.

      “Girls can’t be soldiers,” answered Freddie. “They have to get married, or be dressmakers, or sten’graphers, or something like that.”

      “You mean stenographers, Bert. I’m going to be a stenographer when I get big.”

      “I don’t want to be any stenogerer,” put in Flossie. “I’m going to keep a candy store, and have all the candy I want, and ice cream—”

      “Me too!” burst in Freddie. “I’m going to have a candy store, an’ be a fireman, an’ a soldier, all together!”

      “Dear! dear!” laughed Dinah. “Jess to heah dat now! It’s wonderful wot yo’ is gwine to be when yo’ is big.”

      At that moment the front door bell rang, and all rushed to the hallway, to greet their mother, who had been downtown, on a shopping tour.

      CHAPTER II

      Rope Jumping, and What Followed

      “Oh, mamma, what have you brought?” Such was the cry from all of the Bobbsey twins, as they gathered around Mrs. Bobbsey in the hallway. She had several small packages in her hands, and one looked very much like a box of candy.

      Mrs. Bobbsey kissed them all before speaking. “Have you been good while I was gone?” she asked.

      “I guess we tried to be good,” answered Bert meekly.

      “Freddie’s boiler got broke, that’s all,” said Flossie. “Dinah swept up the dirt.”

      Before anything more could be said all were in the dining room and Mrs. Bobbsey was called upon to admire the row of houses. Then the box of candy was opened and each received a share.

      “Now you had better go out and play,” said the mother. “Dinah must set the table for dinner. But be sure and put on your thick coats. It is very cold and feels like snow.”

      “Oh, if only it would snow!” said Bert. He was anxious to try a sled he had received the Christmas before.

      It was Saturday, with no school, so all of the boys and girls of the neighborhood were out. Some of the girls were skipping rope, and Nan joined these, while Bert went off to join a crowd of boys in a game of football.

      “Let us play horse,” suggested Freddie to Flossie. They had reins of red leather, with bells, and Freddie was the horse while his twin sister was the driver.

      “I’m a bad horse, I’ll run away if you don’t watch me,” cautioned Freddie, and began to prance around wildly, against the grape arbor and then up against the side fence.

      “Whoa! whoa!” screamed Flossie, jerking on the reins. “Whoa, you naughty horse! If I had a whip, I’d beat you!”

      “If you did that, I’d kick,” answered Freddie, and began to kick real hard into the air. But at last he settled down and ran around the house just as nicely as any horse could. Then he snorted and ran up to the water bucket near the barn and Flossie pretended to give him a drink and some hay, and unharnessed him just as if he was a real steed.

      Nan was counting while another girl named Grace Lavine jumped, Grace was a great jumper and had already passed forty when her mother called to her from the window.

      “Grace, don’t jump so much. You’ll get sick.”

      “Oh, no, I won’t,” returned Grace. She was a headstrong girl and always wanted her own way.

      “But jumping gave you a headache only last week,” continued Mrs. Lavine. “Now, don’t do too much of it,” and then the lady closed the window and went back to her interrupted work.

      “Oh, dear, mamma made me trip,” sighed Grace. “I don’t think that was fair.”

      “But your mamma doesn’t want you to jump any more,” put in another girl, Nellie Parks by name.

      “Oh, she didn’t say that. She said not to jump too much.”

      It was now Nan’s turn to jump and she went up to twenty-seven and then tripped. Nellie followed and reached thirty-five. Then came another girl who jumped to fifty-six.

      “I’m going a hundred this time,” said Grace, as she skipped into place.

      “Oh, Grace, you had better not!” cried Nan.

      “You’re afraid I’ll beat you,” declared Grace.

      “No, I’m not. But your mamma said—”

      “I don’t care what she said. She didn’t forbid my jumping,” cut in the obstinate girl. “Are you going to turn or not?”

      “Yes, I’ll turn,” replied Nan, and at once the jumping started. Soon Grace had reached forty. Then came fifty, and then sixty.

      “I do believe she will reach a hundred after all,” declared Nellie Parks, a little enviously.

      “I will, if you turn steadily,” answered Grace, in a panting voice. Her face was strangely pale.

      “Oh, Grace, hadn’t you better stop?” questioned Nan. She was a little frightened, but, nevertheless, kept on turning the rope.

      “No!” puffed Grace. “Go—go on!”

      She had now reached eighty-five. Nellie Parks was counting:

      “Eighty-six, eighty-seven, eighty-eight, eighty-nine, ninety!” she went on. “Ninety-one-, ninety-two—”

      “No—not so—so fast!” panted Grace. “I—I—oh!”

      And then, just as Nellie was counting “Ninety-seven,” she sank down in a heap, with her eyes closed and her face as white as a sheet.

      For a moment the other girls looked on in blank wonder, not knowing what to make of it. Then Nan gave a scream.

      “Oh, girls, she has fainted!”

      “Perhaps

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