Mabel C. Hawley

“ The little bathing beach was not too far from the bungalow, and Father Blossom was an excellent swimmer. He taught each child to swim and very cunning Twaddles and Dot looked in the water. Dot wore a scarlet bathing cap on her dark hair and her bathing suit was red, too, while Twaddles wore a navy and white suit. Meg's suit was a lighter blue and her cap was white, and Bobby had a brown suit like Father Blossom's. The children thought that no one could look lovelier than their mother in her black and white suit and cap to match, and indeed Mother Blossom was growing prettier every day. ”

“ What color is the car, Bobby?"
"Black—no, blue, dark blue!" cried Bobby.
As the comfortable touring car drew up at the curb and the smiling driver waved a gloved hand at the eager group on the porch, Dot jumped up and down with excitement.
"Take me, Daddy?" she shrieked. "Aren't you going?"
Pell-mell the children raced down the garden path and Mrs. Blossom followed more leisurely.
"Aren't you going?" Dot kept repeating. "Aren't you going?"
"You don't care much where you go, do you, Dot?" asked her father whimsically. "The main idea with you seems to be to keep moving. ”

“ Captain Jenks thought his boat was a beauty. Bobby thought so, too.
"Like boats?" the captain asked him, finding the little boy at his elbow.
"I don't know much about them," admitted Bobby. "Shall we have a boat like this? Daddy left the car in the garage."
"A car's no good on the water," said the captain loftily. "What you want is a seaworthy, tight little craft. You're going to live in the Winthrop bungalow, aren't you? Well, then, you'll have two rowboats."
"Then Dot and I can have one," Twaddles remarked with satisfaction. ”

“ Harley earnestly.
"Green apples are not good for you."
"Oh, we didn't touch one," Bobby assured him, trying to punch
Twaddles, who was tickling him. "Meg said they belonged to you."
"I want you children to eat 'em, but not till they are ripe," Mr. Harley shouted back. "Along about the first week in July, you come up here and you'll find the best sweet apples you ever tasted. That is, if the storms leave any on the tree, and I guess they will. You eat all you want—I never want to taste one of those apples again!"
Twaddles stopped trying to tickle Bobby, and Meg squeezed Dot's hand excitedly. ”

“ Even Dot and Twaddles, young as they were, could guess something of what Mr. Harley's sorrow would be when he learned that no wife and children waited for his coming on pretty Apple Tree Island. Meg glanced at Mother Blossom. That lady shook her head slightly, as a signal not to speak.
"Isn't that a sign of spring water for sale?" said Father Blossom suddenly. "Hand me the vacuum bottles, Margaret, please, and I'll have them filled. The children may be thirsty again before we get to Polly's. Dick, will you help me? We've a bottle for each youngster and they're slippery things to handle." ”

“ Neither Bobby nor Meg could make out what it was that held the pole, but it certainly was a pole with a bit of cloth dipping crazily about from one end of it.
"Isn't that funny?" puzzled Meg, staring at Bobby. "No one lives on Kidd's Island."
Dot's mind was full of pirates; and no wonder, for the four children had talked and played pirate games for weeks.
"I'll bet a pirate is there and he wants you to come so he can kidnap you," said Dot solemnly.
Twaddles was staring through the glasses, his "turn" having come at last. ”

“ Harley. Daddy says everything here belongs to him."
"I guess they are green," admitted Bobby, who had tried in vain to soften one in his fingers. "But apples belong to anybody, Meg."
"They do not!" contradicted Meg. "Why, Bobby Blossom! how can you talk like that? Don't you remember when you and Twaddles were in the fruit store with Daddy last Spring and Twaddles took a strawberry from one of the boxes because he saw another boy do it? You know Daddy made him put it back before he could eat it. If strawberries don't belong to anybody, I guess apples don't." ”

“ Bobby and Meg had been a little fearful that Mother Blossom would not trust them again to take care of the twins, but that dear lady knew that accidents make wise little folk more careful. She assured Bobby and Meg with a kiss that she was sure they would look after Dot and Twaddles more closely this time. They did; indeed, the twins rather resented the strict supervision under which they made the trip to Greenpier, but when Dot appealed to Captain Jenks, to her disappointment, he sided with Bobby and Meg. ”

“ Bobby and Twaddles stuck close to the captain's heels, but Meg and Dot determined to get some daisies to take home to their mother. They worked busily, and by the time the others were back from their inspection of the little open shed which was the only shelter on the island, the two girls had large bouquets.
"Were there any smugglers?" asked Dot half-fearfully.
"That's a silly story, that smuggler stuff," pronounced Captain Jenks. "To my mind a man who breaks the game laws is worse than a smuggler. ”

“ Ow! Ow!" louder and louder the shrieks rose.
"Can't be killed and make a noise like that," said Miss Mason practically. "Can you tell who it is, Meg?"
Meg pushed aside one of the girls who stood in her way. She gave a glance from the window. She saw a crowd of boys surrounding the crying one and more boys hurrying from every part of the yard. The group parted for a moment and Meg glimpsed a bit of gleaming red tin. It was Bobby's automobile.
"It's Palmer!" Meg guessed instantly, "He must have hit the fence!" ”

“ Winthrop, a year or so later, built his bungalow. Your mother started off for a walk one day with Bobby, and she walked too far; he was heavy for a baby, and she should never have tried to carry him. But she did, and she walked as far as the other end of the island before her strength gave out. Then what do you suppose she did, Meg?"
Meg looked serious.
"I don't know," she admitted. "Maybe she cried?"
"Mothers don't cry," said Twaddles in fine scorn. "Do they,
Daddy?"
"I cried," confessed Mother Blossom, smiling at the astonished Twaddles. ”

“ We don't, do we?"
"I'm afraid you're so hungry you can't argue very pleasantly," returned Mother Blossom. "However, I want you to wait till we get to the bungalow and I'll have a nice, hot lunch for you, Daddy, what about leaving the car?"
"There's a garage down the street a piece," volunteered Mr. Harley. "Guess the car will be all right there; and the motor-boat's due any minute."
"Told you there wasn't any bridge!" snickered Twaddles in triumph.
"Stop teasing your sister," ordered Father Blossom. "Stay with Mother, children, till I run the car into the shop. Who runs the boat, Dick?" ”

“ Harley when we get to Apple Tree Island?"
"There is no Mrs. Harley there now," answered Father Blossom almost sadly. "She came to see Mother several times that summer. Mr. Harley was shiftless and easy going, but extremely fond of his family. They lived in a shack, but they loved each other devotedly and that, you know, is much better than having a fine house. Well, Mother never went to Apple Tree Island again—you youngsters kept her too busy. But I went nearly every year because I've always had to look after some property there for an invalid friend of Aunt Polly's. ”

“ They learned that it is easier to destroy things than to mend them, and after they had stayed till half past four that night and Mother Blossom had heard the reason and forbidden them ever to take the tin automobile to school again, both children decided that a game with such a sorry ending wasn't worth planning.
The twins had spent the day grubbing in the garden. "Hunting grasshoppers," Twaddles said, as Mother Blossom buttoned him into a clean blouse for supper.
"Why, it's months too early for grasshoppers," said Meg scornfully. "They never come till it's hot in the summertime. ”

“ The motor-boat—by the way, its name was The Sarah, painted in green letters; you haven't been told that before, have you?—was now chugging down the lake toward Greenpier, and Bobby and Meg were taking their first lesson in managing the wheel. Twaddles had found a compass in the toolchest and was having a wonderful time playing with that. Dot thought the time had come to put an idea of hers into practice.
"They look wilted," she told herself, eyeing the daisies with disfavor. "What they need is water." ”

“ The Blossoms were home in time for supper, and of course Norah had to hear about the drive. Bobby did not have much to say, for he was busy thinking out a little plan that, he privately decided, could best be tried out at school. Bobby's experience had been that Twaddles and Dot always wanted a finger in his plans and that too many fingers are as bad as too many cooks. And any one will tell you that too many cooks are worse than none.
"Can I take my automobile to school this morning?" Bobby asked at the breakfast table the day after the drive in the new car. ”

“ Working like four beavers, they soon had lunch—and a good lunch, too—set out on the table. They had promised never to light the oil stove, so they could not make tea, but Mother Blossom could do that in a very few minutes when she came.
When the table was ready Meg ran out for some red clover and tall grasses for a bouquet and Bobby followed her, leaving Dot and Twaddles alone.
"I think we ought to have some jelly on the table, don't you?" said Dot. "We never have enough jelly. Mother likes currant." ”

“ From his blouse he drew a hammer, borrowed from the tool bench in the Blossom garage, and, awkwardly, for he was not used to the work, inserted it under the end of a picket. There was a ripping, grating noise, and the picket parted from the cross-piece.
"Bobby Blossom!" cried Meg. "What in the world are you going to do?" ”

“ That, as you may understand, occasionally led to disputes.
"Take your lunch and play at Mr. Harley's house?" said Mother Blossom, laying down her pencil and smiling at the two earnest faces. "I don't know why not. I'll put some sandwiches up for you as soon as I finish this list."
"And may just Meg and I go, Mother?" added Bobby coaxingly.
"Oh, Bobby, you know the twins will be disappointed," Mother Blossom replied. "They do love to poke around that shack and I'm afraid they will feel hurt if they think you do not want them." ”

“ Not even one box is smashed, so why shed tears? 'Tisn't every little girl comes to see us who can say she's been in the flour bin."
Dot continued to sob while Mr. Carroll did up the oatmeal and the cornstarch and the other things and put them in Bobby's bag. She was still crying when the four little Blossoms went down the grocery store steps and turned toward the road that led home.
"I should think you would cry," said Meg severely. "I was so mortified! Can't you go anywhere, Dot, without falling into something?" ”

“ The hall clock struck eight.
"Oh, dear," sighed Dot. "Just as things get exciting we always have to go to bed!"
"That's the whole story!" announced Father Blossom, pulling her down into his lap for a kiss. "There's no more to tell, chicken, if you should stay up till midnight to listen. No one knows what became of the Harley family, and I believe their shack is slowly falling to pieces. I haven't been to the Island for two summers—not since Mrs. Harley went off, in fact. ”

“ Meg was setting the table in the kitchen, for one half of the room was designed to be used as the dining-room, and Dot and Twaddles were filling the salt cellars amiably. Father Blossom had lighted the oil stove, and Bobby was unpacking the plates. They had found all the things shipped from the Oak Hill home neatly stacked in the hall, ready to be opened.
"But you are going out of the house," said Father Blossom decidedly. "This isn't going to be the kind of vacation where every one has a good time except Mother. ”

“ Dot was securely pinned into her new frock when he came panting upstairs, and she implored him to wait until she could help pack, too. Twaddles generously consented, and Mother Blossom warned them not to touch anything except the one desk drawer. They promised, and when Dot had resumed her old dress, without the basted petticoat, they earnestly set to work.
"What a lot of stuff!" exclaimed Dot, turning over a rusty bolt curiously. "What's this for, Twaddles?"
"I don't know," said Twaddles. "Don't putter, Dot. Mother says the way to get a job done is to work steadily." ”

“ Dot and Twaddles were down at the wharf waiting to see Captain Jenks and his motor-boat, a daily habit which was encouraged by the captain, who usually brought them some little treat.
"We'll go around the other side of the island, and they won't see us," said Meg, the general. "It isn't much longer, really."
The other side of the island was rockier, though, and the bushes were thicker. Still, Meg and Bobby managed to scramble though, and half an hour's steady tramping brought them to the Harley shack.
"It keeps falling apart," mourned Meg ”