Part 3

“No, sir,” answered Tommy. “You see, it’s this way. We are the Trippertrots, and we’re always getting lost. We start out somewhere, as we did to-day on our funny horses, and we don’t seem to go very far at all, but all of a sudden we’re lost. So we never know whether we’re near home or not.”

“I guess it’s that way now,” said Mary. “I don’t seem to remember this place at all,” and she looked all around. “It isn’t a bit like what I thought it was, and we didn’t seem to come so very far; and anyhow, we only started out from home a short while ago. But we’re lost, sure.”

“Never mind,” said Tommy. “Fido or Ivy Vine will show us the way home; or, if they can’t, perhaps this gentleman will.”

“To be sure,” said the fisherman, pulling up his line and looking at it, and then the children saw that instead of a regular sharp fish-hook he had a big hammock-hook on the end of his line.

“That’s a funny hook,” said Johnny.

“Isn’t it?” agreed the old fisherman, with a jolly laugh. “But I like it.”

“Maybe that’s why you never catch any fish,” said Tommy.

“I believe you’re right,” agreed the old man, with another jolly laugh. “I never thought of it in that way before, but I believe that’s the reason.”

“But if you don’t catch fish, what do you catch?” asked Mary, who was very curious.

“Oh, lots and lots of things!” exclaimed the fisherman. “It would take me a long time to tell you, for they are such funny things. The best way for me to do would be to show you what I catch. Now look at me carefully, and see what I pull up this time on my hammock-hook.”

So the old fisherman carefully lowered his hook and line into the little lake. Then he leaned back in his chair, and the Trippertrots stood around him. The old man closed his eyes.

“Ha! I have something!” he suddenly cried, and, quickly pulling up his line, there, dangling on the hammock-hook, was a pair of rubber boots.

“That’s funny,” said Mary.

“Oh, that’s nothing at all,” said the old fisherman. “Just you wait and see what happens next. I catch very funny things.”

So he put in his line again, just like Jack Horner put his thumb in the pie. Then the old fisherman pulled it out again--pulled out the line, you know, not Jack Horner’s thumb--and this time, dangling on the hammock-hook, was a nice rubber coat, such as children wear to school on rainy days.

“That’s strange,” said Tommy.

“Not at all,” said the old fisherman. “See what my next catch will be.” And what do you suppose it was? Why, when he pulled up his line the next time there was a big umbrella on the hook!

“There! What did I tell you?” exclaimed the fisherman.

And then, all of a sudden, before the Trippertrots could say anything--all of a sudden, I say--it began to rain. How it did pour! The drops splashed down all over, and made the grass quite wet.

“Oh! Whatever shall we do?” cried Mary.

“Quick!” cried the old fisherman. “Tommy, you put on the rubber boots and the rubber coat, and Johnny, you take the umbrella, and hold it over you and Mary. It’s big enough for two children. Lively now, and then run as fast as you can.”

“Where shall we run?” asked Tommy, as he put on the rubber boots.

“Run anywhere,” answered the old fisherman. “Anywhere. It doesn’t matter, as long as you get in out of the rain. Run! Run! I’ll run, too!” And catching up his chair in one hand, and his fishpole in the other, he ran as fast as he could after the children.

“Oh, I just know we’ll be lost again!” cried Mary sorrowfully.

“Never mind,” said Tommy. “This is jolly fun!”

“It certainly is,” agreed Johnny. “Maybe we’ll have another adventure. Come on, Ivy Vine and Fido.”

So on they ran, the Trippertrots and the old fisherman and the dog and cat; on and on through the rain, which kept coming down harder and harder, until pretty soon they saw a little house in the woods.

“Who lives there?” asked Mary.

“The false-face man,” said the old fisherman. “Come on. We’ll go in there out of the wet.”

So they started for the house of the false-face man, and they wondered what would happen when they got there.

ADVENTURE NUMBER SIX

THE TRIPPERTROTS AND THE FALSE-FACE MAN

“Oh, my! It’s raining harder than ever!” cried Mary Trippertrot, as she and her brothers and the old fisherman ran along. “Can’t you please hold that umbrella over me better than that, Johnny? I’m getting all wet.”

“Never mind,” spoke the kind old fisherman, and he held the chair upside down over his head, so his whiskers wouldn’t get full of water. “Never mind. We’ll soon be in the false-face man’s house, and we can get good and dry.”

“Do you think he is at home?” asked Tommy.

“Who? The false-face man?” inquired the old fisherman. “Of course he’s at home. He’s never anywhere else. He never goes out, you know. Why, who would make all the false-faces if he went away? He just can’t spare the time, you see.”

“Oh, it must be dreadful to have to stay in the house all the while!” said Mary. “I wouldn’t like it a bit.”

“Well,” said the fisherman, as he tried to run in between the big rain-drops so he wouldn’t get hit by them, “there is one good thing about staying home all the while--you never get lost.”

“That’s so,” agreed Tommy. “But we’d better hurry. My boots are full of water, and my feet are wet.”

“Oh, that’s too bad!” exclaimed the fisherman. “I forgot about the water in the boots. I wonder how it got in?”

“Why, you fished them up out of the lake,” said Johnny, “and I think it must have gotten in over the tops that way. They were down under water, you know.”

“To be sure,” said the old fisherman. “The next time I catch rubber boots I’m going to have the tops covered over with shingles so the water won’t get in. But I see the false-face man waving to us, and that means he’s at home, and he wants us to hurry in. Run a little faster, children.”

So the Trippertrots ran faster, and so did Ivy Vine, the cat, for she didn’t like the wet very much; and neither did Fido, the dog; but they didn’t say anything about it. And the old fisherman ran, also.

Mary and Tommy and Johnny looked toward the little house to see what kind of a person the false-face man was. He was standing in the doorway. And he was quite a jolly sort of a man, if you will kindly take my word for it. He had on an apron all covered with spots of paint, and his arms, on which the sleeves were rolled up almost to the shoulders, had paint on them also. The children could see him quite plainly now, for all of a sudden the sky cleared up, though the ground was still very wet.

“Leave the umbrella, chair, coat and rubber boots here,” said the old fisherman. “We won’t need them, as it has stopped raining.”

So they put them down in the grass and hurried on.

And oh, so many, many pretty colors as the children saw! There were red spots on the false-face man, and green spots of paint, and pink spots, and black spots, and yellow, and brown, and purple, and gold, and silver, and even some chimney-colored spots. It was just as if a rainbow had splattered over him.

“Why is he all spotted up that way?” asked Mary, as she and Johnny splashed into a puddle and out again.

“Because he paints the false-faces,” said the old fisherman. “He paints them all sorts of colors, and, of course, some of the paint splashes on him. But bless you! he doesn’t mind it in the least; not in the least, I do assure you.”

“Does he make _all_ the false-faces?” asked Tommy, as he stepped along.

“Everyone,” answered the old fisherman. “All those faces you see in the store windows for Hallowe’en. Wait. I’ll have him tell you about it.”

So they ran on, and now they were right at the front door of the house of the false-face man, and they could see that he was even more jolly-looking than they had at first thought.

“Don’t you make all the false-faces?” the old fisherman asked him, as he pointed to some of them hanging on the house. “Please tell the children all about it.”

“To be sure I will,” said the false-face man, with a jolly laugh. “I have just finished making a whole lot of false-faces for the children all over this country, and for some out in a city called Orange; but I think that must be a funny place. I wonder why they didn’t call it Lemon?”

“Because, if you please,” said Mary, “I think it was because lemons are sour.”

“Ha! I never thought of that!” exclaimed the false-face man. “No doubt you are right. But come in. Don’t mind the paint. It won’t come off, for it’s dry by this time.”

“I wish _we_ were dry,” said old fisherman, as he twisted his whiskers around to squeeze the water out of them. “_We_ are very wet, even if the paint isn’t.”

“Well, come in, and you may sit by the fire,” said the false-face man. “I’m very glad to see you.”

“And will you really tell us about making the false-faces, if you please?” asked Tommy politely.

“To be sure I will,” was the answer. “Do you mind if I sing it?” and the false-face man looked at the children, and then at Ivy Vine, who was trying to get her fur dry with her red tongue.

“No. I think they would like very much to hear you sing,” spoke the old fisherman.

“Do you think the dog or cat would mind?” went on the false-face man. “Some dogs don’t like music.”

“Oh, I don’t believe they would mind your singing,” said Tommy, and the false-face man and the old fisherman began to laugh, though the Trippertrots didn’t know why.

“Well, then, here goes for the song,” said the false-face man after a while. “It’s not a very good one, as I made it up myself, but it’s the best I can do. And I’ll sing it to the tune of Hum-dum-dum diddle-iddle-um.”

Then he sang this song:

“I am the false-est facer man That ever you have seen. I make false-faces colored red, And also colored green. I make an elephant’s false-face, And then I go and make A false-face for a mooley-cow Who’s eating jelly cake.

“I’ll make false-faces for you all, If you will kindly wait; I’ll make one for the soup dish, And for the butter plate. And then we’ll have a party, The funniest ever seen, For we’ll all have false-faces To wear on Hallowe’en.”

“I think that is a very nice song,” said Mary, when the false-face man had finished.

“Thank you,” replied the false-face man, making a low bow.

“Oh, goody!” cried Tommy. “When is Hallowe’en?”

“To-night,” answered the old fisherman.

“And will you really make false-faces for all of us?” inquired Johnny.

“To be sure I will,” said the false-face man, “and I’ll make one for Ivy Vine, and for Fido the dog. Then we’ll have a party, just as I sung about.”

“Oh, but I forgot!” exclaimed Mary. “We can’t stay to any Hallowe’en party.”

“Why not?” asked Tommy.

“Because we’re lost,” said his sister. “We must try to find our way back home, or mamma and papa will be alarmed about us.”

“That’s so,” said the two boys.

“Oh, don’t worry,” spoke the false-face man. “I think I can find your home for you after a while, and it is early yet.”

That made the children feel better, and they thought they might stay just a little while longer; anyway, until they got their false-faces.

“Now, what kind of faces do you want?” asked the man, who was all covered with paint spots.

“I want an Indian’s!” exclaimed Tommy.

“You shall have it,” said the false-face man.

“And I want one like Little Jack Horner, who sat in the corner,” said Johnny.

“You shall have it,” said the false-face man, with a jolly laugh, “and you may sit in the corner of my shop here, and perhaps we can find a Christmas pie so you can put in your thumb and pull out a plum.”

“Oh, that will be jolly!” exclaimed Tommy.

“And now what kind of a false-face do you want, Mary?” asked the old fisherman.

“Oh, I think I would like one of Old Mother Hubbard who went to the cupboard,” said the little Trippertrot girl.

“And you may have that,” promised the false-face man. “And I have a cupboard, and you have the dog, so if we can find a bone the cupboard won’t be bare.”

Then he gave the children their false-faces, and he found a bone for Fido, who barked three times, to say thank you; and there was some milk for Ivy Vine. Then the children put on their false-faces, and there was one for Fido. He was dressed up like a monkey; and as for Ivy Vine, she had a false-face like a wax doll, and she was very cute-looking.

And the false-face man didn’t need any false-face himself, as he was all covered over with paint, anyhow. And whom do you suppose the old fisherman dressed up like? Why, who else but Santa Claus, and he wore his own whiskers. Then they had a party, and Johnny put his thumb in a pie and pulled out a whole bag full of sugar plums. Oh, they were just having the grandest time, when, all of a sudden, there came a knock on the door!

“Ha! I wonder who that can be?” asked the false-face man.

“I’ll look,” said the old fisherman.

So he looked, and who should be there but the Trippertrots’ nursemaid, Suzette.

“Oh, children!” exclaimed Suzette, when she saw them. “You must come home at once! I have been looking everywhere for you! Your mamma is much worried. Come home at once!”

“We didn’t mean to run away,” said Mary, “but the sawhorse and the clothes-horse and the rocking-horse got going so fast that we couldn’t stop them. So we got lost.”

[Illustration: _Old Mother Hubbard._]

“But we’re not lost now, any more!” exclaimed Tommy, as the nursemaid walked into the house.

“And here is a little present for Suzette,” spoke the false-face man, as he gave her a face that looked like a Chinese lady, with a pigtail down her back.

And then, when the children had said good-by to their two friends, the fisherman and the false-face man, they started home with Suzette, taking Ivy Vine and Fido with them, and also their false-faces.

But they hadn’t been home very long before they ran away again, and then they had another adventure.

ADVENTURE NUMBER SEVEN

THE TRIPPERTROTS AND THE LITTLE OLD LADY

One day Mrs. Trippertrot called to her three children.

“Now, children,” she said, “I am going out for a little while, and I do hope you will not trot off anywhere this time. You don’t know how worried I am when you run off, as you have done several times lately.”

“We’re sorry, mamma,” said Tommy.

“And we don’t ever really mean to trot off,” said Mary Trippertrot.

“It--it just seems to happen,” spoke Johnny Trippertrot. “Our legs run off with us before we know it.”

“Well, try and not let them run off with you to-day,” said their mamma. “I will leave Suzette in charge of you.”

“We’ll try to be good, mamma,” said Mary politely.

“But, oh! we did have such fun the other day when we rode off on the funny horses!” exclaimed Tommy.

“Yes, when we met the false-face man and the old fisherman,” added Johnny.

“Oh, I know what let’s do!” cried Mary. “We’ll get out our false-faces and play it’s Hallowe’en again.”

“That will be nice, I think,” said their mamma, “and it ought to keep you in the house. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

So off she went, downtown shopping, I guess, and the children got out their funny false-faces, and played some games. They were having a good time, when, all at once, they heard some one out in the street crying.

“I wonder who that is?” said Johnny.

“Let’s go look,” suggested Tommy.

“No, you had better not,” said Suzette the maid. “For it might be a funny monkey, and then you would want to go off after it, and you would be lost again. You had better stay here and play at having a surprise party.”

Well, the children didn’t want to do that, but they knew they must mind Suzette, for she was in charge of them. But just then something happened. The delivery wagon came from the big downtown store, and Suzette had to go down to the side door to take in some things for the children’s mamma. Then Mary and Tommy and Johnny heard the crying noise out in the street again, and Mary said:

“I don’t believe it would do any harm to take just one peep, to see who is crying.”

“Me, either,” spoke Tommy.

“Then let’s do it,” said Johnny, and they did. They went to the front window and looked out. And this is what the children saw:

There was a tiny little girl walking along, and she had fallen down, and her knee had been cut on a sharp stone, and that’s why she was crying.

“Oh, see the poor thing!” cried Mary.

“We ought to help her,” said Johnny.

“Then let’s do it,” suggested Tommy. “Suzette or mamma wouldn’t care if we helped somebody in trouble. Mamma would want us to, I’m sure. Besides, mamma isn’t here now, and neither is Suzette.” For you see, the nursemaid was still talking to the delivery boy. He had forgotten to bring a spool of thread that Mrs. Trippertrot needed, and Suzette was asking about it.

“We’ll go down to the little girl,” said Mary. “We can’t get lost in front of our own house.”

So down they went, and I just want you to listen, and see what happened after that. It just goes to show that you never, never can tell what is going to happen in this world.

“What is the matter, little girl?” asked Mary, after she had wiped the child’s tears away with her handkerchief.

“Oh! Boo-hoo! I’m lost!” cried the little girl. “I went to the store for a stick of candy, but I came back the wrong way, and I’m lost.”

“Where is the stick of candy?” asked Tommy.

“I ate it all up,” said the little lost girl. “Look! You can’t see it.” And she opened her mouth so the Trippertrots could see away down her throat, and believe me, there wasn’t a bit of candy to be seen!

“Yes, it’s all gone,” said Johnny sorrowfully, when he got through looking.

“Say, do you know what I think we ought to do?” spoke Tommy suddenly.

“What?” asked Mary and Johnny.

“We ought to take this little lost girl home. We’d want some one to take us home if we were lost, and I don’t believe mamma or Suzette would mind.”

“I don’t, either,” said Mary.

“Then let’s do it,” said Tommy. “Do you know which street you live on?” he asked of the little girl.

“Oh, yes. It’s a street with trees on it,” said the child, and now she stopped crying. “Please take me to it.”

“There are lots of streets with trees on,” said Tommy, “but we’ll try to find the right one for you. Come on.”

And so that’s how the Trippertrots started tripping and trotting off again, and at the beginning they didn’t really mean to do so at all. But you see how some very funny things happen sometimes.

Along they walked, all four children together, hand in hand, looking for the house where the little lost girl lived. Ivy Vine, the cat, didn’t come along this time, nor did Fido, the dog. For Ivy Vine was washing her face with her red tongue, and Fido was gnawing a bone.

“What is your name, little girl?” asked Mary, when they had gone a short distance down the street.

“My name is Jack,” she answered.

“Why, that is not a girl’s name, it’s a boy’s!” said Tommy in surprise.

“I know it,” said the little lost girl, “and I _want_ to be a boy, so I choosed a boy’s name. My mamma lets me, and when I grow up I’m going to ride a horse and play football.”

The Trippertrot children laughed at that, and they thought the little girl who wanted to be a boy was very nice. But still they couldn’t seem to find her home. They looked all over for her house, and every time they came to a street with trees on it they asked her if it was there she lived, but she said:

“No, none of these houses are my papa’s house. I guess we’ll have to go on a little farther.”

So they went on a little farther, but still they couldn’t seem to find the place, and the little girl said:

“Oh, dear! I guess I’m lost still, aren’t I?” And she took a tighter hold of Mary Trippertrot’s hand.

“I guess you are,” answered Mary.

“And I guess _we_ are, too,” said Tommy.

“Well, that’s just what I was afraid would happen,” said Johnny. “Here we are lost again, and we promised mamma we wouldn’t go out of the house.”

“Oh, but we really didn’t _mean_ to,” said Mary; “and besides, she’ll forgive us when she knows we tried to do a kindness.”

“Yes, I guess so,” said Tommy, “but what are we going to do? I don’t know which way to go.”

Neither did any of the others, and Mary was just looking around, hoping she could find a nice policeman, when, all at once, the door of a house, in front of which they were standing, opened, and a kind little old lady looked out.

“Oh, you poor, dear, little lost children!” she exclaimed. “Come right in here, and let me love you.”

“How did you know we were lost?” asked Tommy.

“Oh, I was once a little girl myself,” said the nice little old lady, and, though her hair was white, her eyes were as bright as the snapping fire on a cold night. “So I know when children are lost,” she added.

So the little lost girl and the Trippertrots, who were also lost now, went into the house of the little old lady. She brought out some nice low chairs for them to sit on, and she gave them some picture books to look at, and then what do you think she did? Why, she went out and got them some bowls of milk from a mooley-cow--the milk was from the cow, you know, not the bowls--and she brought some bread; and say! I just wish I had some of that bread and milk myself! Oh, it was very good! But I can’t have any, because the Trippertrots and the lost girl finished it all up, down to the last drop, and they ate some sugar cookies, too.