“Well, some of those cattle men might,” Mrs. Martin answered. “Those were rough fellows and they might take a notion to my glasses. The frames were of solid gold.”
“But all the men who drove the cattle were young fellows,” said Mr. Watson. “None of them wore glasses.”
“Well, I don’t know,” sighed Mrs. Watson’s cousin. “I wish I had my glasses, that’s all I can say.”
The happy days at Cloverbank were drawing to a close. Mr. Bobbsey planned to take his family back home in about a week, so the children could resume their studies at school.
“But first I must get some more things to put in my composition,” Nan said. “Are you going to work on yours, Bert?” she asked her brother, as she saw him wandering about the house as if searching for something. “Are you looking for a pencil and paper?”
“I’m looking for my pole,” he said. “I’m going fishing with Sam. I have lots of time to write a composition after I get back to Lakeport.”
“Oh, yes,” agreed Nan. “I’m going to write my composition after I get home, but I want some things to happen here so I’ll have plenty of incidents, as Miss Skell calls them.”
In the days that followed the Bobbsey twins had much fun. They went on picnics to the woods and to Buttermilk Glen, but Bert kept away from the pirate’s cave.
The children played in the barns, they helped feed the chickens and gathered the eggs. Old Speck came off her nest beneath the barn with a brood of ten little chickens and was put in a coop near the house. Flossie and Freddie devoted themselves to this little family, feeding them and giving them water every day.
When another crop of hay was gathered, the twins were allowed to ride on top of the loads as they were brought in from the field, though Nan did not again try to operate the trolley fork. Twice Bert and Sam went fishing, and once they took Freddie who, to his great delight, caught a good-sized chub. But it dropped off the hook when close to the bank and flapped its way back toward the creek.