“I’ll slide down the banisters,” he decided when he reached the stairs. “Then the stairs can’t creak and make a noise.”
Once in the downstairs hall, it was easy to get his hat and coat and rubber boots. A light shone under the kitchen door, proof that Norah was still there. Probably she would sit up till Mother Blossom came home. Bobby let himself out of the front door and closed it very gently. Then he was possessed to run around to the back of the house and make sure that Norah had not taken it into her head to go upstairs and look for him.
“Oh—my!” gasped Bobby with a half grunt as he turned the corner of the house. He had walked into Mr. White, whose existence he had forgotten. There was no moon and the dark was pretty black until one got used to it.
Bobby walked around the snowman and then he could see the light streaming from the kitchen windows. Norah seldom pulled down the shades. He could see her sitting at the table, her paper propped up against her mending basket. Sam sat on the other side of the table, reading a book. Philip was stretched out before the fire, and Annabel Lee dozed in a cushioned rocking chair.
“Sam could take us in the car,” thought Bobby, carefully picking his way out of the yard. “He could take us to—to Mexico, I guess! But he’d want to tell Daddy first, and Daddy wouldn’t let us go, maybe.”
There were not many street lights in Oak Hill and the street where the Blossoms lived was not much traveled after dark. So Bobby had to go slowly, feeling his way till he reached the corner where an arc light burned.
“Hello, Bobby!” whispered a voice, and Fred Baldwin stepped out of the shadows. Palmer Davis was behind him.
“Where’s Bertrand?” asked Bobby.
“Hasn’t come yet—he’s always late,” said Fred, who thought that everyone should be as prompt as he was.
“Maybe he can’t get away,” said Palmer mildly. “My mother most caught me as I was going out the door. Suppose she had!”