Part 5

“But do you think we ought to stay?” asked Mary, who wasn’t exactly sure that they were doing right.

“Of course we must stay,” said Johnny. “Why, we haven’t thanked the fireman yet for doing us that favor, and mamma wouldn’t want us to come home until we had done it.”

“That’s right,” added Tommy. “Why, don’t you remember once Mrs. Smith gave me a piece of cake, and I forgot to thank her, and came home, and mamma sent me back to tell Mrs. Smith I was much obliged? And I’m real glad I went back, for she gave me a second piece of cake. Oh, yes, we must always be polite in this world.”

“Yes; and now let’s look at all the shiny things,” suggested Johnny.

So he and his brother and sister went all around inside the fire-engine house. Pretty soon the fireman came in who had put out the chimney fire in the Trippertrot home.

“Why, bless me!” he exclaimed in surprise. “Everybody has gone to another fire, and I must go, too!” And he was about to run out on the street again, to find where the fire was, when Mary said:

“Oh, but if you please, couldn’t you first wait until we thank you, and then can’t you take us home? For I’m afraid we’ll get lost if we go by ourselves. We’re always getting lost, you know. But we forgot to thank you, so we came here to do it.”

“Bless me! That was kind of you,” said the fireman. “But I really haven’t time to stay, for I must go and help the captain and the men put out this other fire. I really can’t stay.” And once more he was about to run off.

“Quick! Thank him, Johnny and Tommy!”

“We thank you!” said Tommy and Johnny together, making two low bows.

“And so do I thank you for not letting our chimney burn up,” said Mary, making her nicest bow.

“Well, you’re welcome, I’m sure,” replied the fireman. “But really, now, I must hurry away.”

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

“Hold on! Wait a minute!” exclaimed the fireman. “I have an idea. Here!” he called to a funny-looking boy who just then came into the fire-house. “Jiggily, will you please take these children home, so they won’t get lost? I put out a chimney fire in their house to-day, and they came here to thank me. You take them home. You know where the Trippertrot house is, don’t you?”

“Oh, yes,” said the funny boy. “I can take them home, all right, and I’ll be glad to do it.”

“Then I can go to this other fire,” said the fireman, and away he ran, like Tom-Tom the piper’s son, waving his hand to the children as he hurried along the street.

“Come on, little ones!” called the funny boy. “I’ll see you safely home.”

“Is your name Jiggily?” asked Mary, and she didn’t quite know whether she liked the funny boy or not, for he was very funny-looking.

He had on a funny suit, partly green and partly yellow, and his nose was stubby and short and turned up at the end, as if it was always trying to fly up to the stars; but the boy looked kind, and he was always laughing or smiling.

“Yes, my name is Jiggily,” he said to Mary, as they all walked out of the fire-engine house.

“Haven’t you any other name?” asked Tommy.

“Oh, yes, of course,” answered the funny boy. “My other name is Jig; so you see my whole name is Jiggily Jig.”

“How did you get that name?” inquired Johnny.

“Why, they call me that because I can dance a jig,” said the funny boy. “Would you like to see me?”

“Indeed we would,” spoke all the Trippertrot children together, and then and there that funny boy did a funny little dance in front of the fire-engine house. And a little black poodle dog that was running past in the street saw him, and would you ever believe it, if I didn’t tell you? but that dog tried to dance just as Jiggily Jig was doing.

But, bless you, all of a sudden the doggie slipped on a piece of banana skin, and he almost fell down. He would have, too, only Jiggily Jig caught him by the tail and stood him on his feet again--on the dog’s feet, you understand, not those of Jiggily Jig--which shows you that you must never, never throw banana skins on the sidewalk, as they are very slippery.

“Oh, that was a very nice dance,” said Mary, who went to dancing school sometimes.

“Can you do anything else?” asked Tommy, and he wished the funny boy would come and live with them.

“Yes, I can whistle on my fingers,” said Jiggily Jig. So he put his fingers in between his lips, just as if he was going to eat a piece of pie, only, of course, he didn’t really have any pie, or cake, either, and then the funny boy whistled as loudly as an automobile horn can toot.

“Oh, my!” cried Mary, and she had to put her hands over her ears, because Jiggily Jig whistled so loudly.

“My, that was fine!” cried Johnny and Tommy, who wished they could whistle that way.

“Can you do anything else?” asked Johnny.

“Yes. I can stand on my head and wiggle my feet in the air,” answered Jiggily Jig; and before anybody could stop him, even if they had wanted to, which, of course, they didn’t, that funny boy was standing on his head in front of the engine-house, and he was waving his feet in the air, as easily as a baby can wiggle its pink toes.

“Oh, that’s great!” cried Tommy and Johnny together.

“Yes; I’m going to try it,” said Johnny.

“No! You mustn’t!” exclaimed his sister. “You might slip, and get dirty.”

“Yes, and you might slip and also get hurt,” said Jiggily Jig. “The best place to try that trick, until you learn how, is safely at home, in the middle of the bed. Then, if you fall, you won’t get hurt.”

“I’m going to do it as soon as I get home,” said Johnny.

“Do you know any more tricks?” asked Tommy.

“Oh, my gracious goodness me sakes alive!” cried Mary, shaking her finger at her brothers and the funny boy. “Please don’t show them any more tricks, or we’ll never get home to-day. Can’t you take us home now, Jiggily Jig?”

“Oh, yes,” answered the funny boy. “I forgot where we were going. Come along, little ones.”

So along the street they went, the Trippertrots and Jiggily Jig. But they couldn’t go very fast, because every once in a while Jiggily Jig would have to stop and dance, and, of course, he couldn’t walk then. And sometimes he would whistle on his fingers, and all the dogs in all the streets for half a mile around would think he was whistling at them, and they’d come running up, wagging their tails; and, of course, when there were a whole lot of dogs around them the children couldn’t walk at all.

[Illustration: _Jiggily Jig Would Stand on His Head._]

And then, again, Jiggily Jig would stand on his head, and that would make a crowd of people come around; and then, too, the Trippertrots couldn’t walk on through the crowd.

“Oh, we’ll never get home, at this rate!” said Mary, and she felt a little bit like crying, for she thought her mamma would be in the house by this time, and would worry because her little children weren’t home.

“Yes, we will soon be there,” said Jiggily Jig, as he looked around to see if he could locate the Trippertrot house. But he couldn’t yet discover where it was.

“I think it must be around the next corner,” said the funny boy at last. “Come on. We will soon be there.”

Well, they turned the corner, but still the Trippertrot home wasn’t in sight, and even Tommy and Johnny were beginning to be worried now, when, all of a sudden, they saw coming toward them a man pushing a little wagon on two wheels, and on the wagon were a lot of pies; and behind the man was another queer-looking boy, almost like Jiggily Jig.

“Oh! Who is that?” cried Mary.

“Why, the man pushing the wagon is a pieman,” said Jiggily Jig.

“And who is the boy?” asked Johnny.

“Why, that is Simple Simon,” answered Jiggily Jig. “You know he used to be in Mother Goose’s book. ‘Simple Simon met a pieman going to the fair. Said Simple Simon to the pieman, let me taste your ware.’ That’s who the boy is.”

“Oh, how glad I am to meet them!” cried Mary.

“And is the pieman going to a fair or circus?” asked Johnny.

“No, he is just coming back, because the circus is over!” exclaimed Simple Simon. “But he’s got lots of pies left. Hey, Jiggily Jig!” called Simple Simon to the funny boy. “Let’s see who can turn the most somersaults.”

And then those two funny boys began turning somersaults down the street, going over and over, faster and faster, and getting farther and farther away from the Trippertrots.

“Oh, he’s gone--Jiggily Jig is gone, and we’ll never get home!” cried Mary.

“Never mind,” said the kind pieman, “I think I can take you home. Come with me.”

ADVENTURE NUMBER ELEVEN

THE TRIPPERTROTS AND THE PIEMAN

The Trippertrot children stood on the sidewalk, looking after Jiggily Jig, the funny boy, and Simple Simon, turning somersaults. Then the Trippertrot children looked at the pieman.

“Whatever shall we do?” asked Mary. “Oh, I wish we had never left the house when mamma told us not to! What shall we do?”

“Go with the pieman, of course,” answered Johnny.

“Yes, and maybe he’ll give us each a pie, and mamma or Suzette could pay him when he gets to our house. I’m very hungry,” spoke Tommy.

“So am I,” said Johnny.

“And I guess I am also,” added Mary.

“Why, bless your hearts!” exclaimed the kind pieman. “Hungry, eh? That will never do! I can’t bear to see hungry children. Step right up to the pie wagon, and help yourselves. I have apple pie, peach pie, lemon pie, cocoanut pie, orange pie, cranberry pie, and even sawdust pie, but I wouldn’t like to give you any of that last. Sawdust pie is very hard to eat.”

“Who does eat sawdust pie?” asked Mary, wondering what it looked like.

“Oh, sawdust pie is for sawdust dolls,” said the pieman. “I make it especially for them. That’s really the only thing they can eat. But what kind would you children like--lemon, peach, custard----”

“Oh, I just love custard pie!” interrupted Johnny, smacking his lips.

“So do I!” cried Tommy.

“And mamma says it’s very good for us,” added Mary.

“Only--only,” spoke Tommy slowly, “we haven’t any money to pay you with just now, Mr. Pieman.”

“Oh, that doesn’t matter in the least,” spoke the kind pieman, winking both his eyes, one after the other.

“But when Simple Simon wanted to taste of your pies you made him show you first his penny,” said Johnny.

“And he didn’t have any,” added Mary.

“Oh, but _that_ was Simple Simon,” said the pieman, with a laugh. “He’s different, Simon is. Why, he’d eat every pie on my wagon if I didn’t make him show me his penny every now and then. And sometimes he loses it, and then he can’t have any pie for a week. But I don’t want any money from you Trippertrot children.”

“What kind of pie does Simple Simon like best?” asked Tommy, as he went close up to the pie wagon, and saw that there were several large custard pies on it.

“Oh, he’ll eat almost any kind,” replied the pieman, “but most especially he likes a Christmas pie, the kind I always make for little Jack Horner, who sits in a corner. Yes, Simon is very fond of Christmas pies, with sugar plums in them.”

“Do you make pies for Jack Horner?” asked Johnny.

“To be sure,” answered the pieman, “else he wouldn’t have any to stick his thumb in. But come, now, choose your custard pie, and after you eat it we’ll travel on and see if you can find your home.”

“Why, don’t you know where it is?” asked Mary.

“No,” answered the pieman. “I thought you did.”

“Oh, there we go again!” cried Tommy. “We’re lost once more! Jiggily Jig knew where our house was, but he’s gone off!”

“Yes, he’s gone off, sure enough,” agreed the pieman, and he looked down the street, but he couldn’t see either Jiggily Jig or Simple Simon.

“I thought perhaps Jiggily Jig would have told you where our house was before he began turning those somersaults,” said Mary.

“Bless you, no, he didn’t,” answered the pieman. “But you never can depend on Jiggily Jig. He’s too fond of doing funny tricks. But don’t worry. I dare say I can manage to find your house. So come along, eat your pie, and be happy.”

Then he cut a nice, fresh custard pie for them, and gave them each a piece. Oh, it was most delicious! Which means very nice, you know. Yes, that pie was certainly good, and I wish I could give you all some, if you were allowed to eat it, but I’m not--I mean I’m not allowed to give you any, because there wouldn’t be enough to go around.

“Well, now, if you’re all ready, we’ll start off,” said the kind pieman, when the Trippertrot children had finished eating. “We will go up one street and down another, and perhaps after a while we may come to your home.”

“I’m afraid we won’t,” answered Mary. “We always do seem to have such bad luck in losing our home. I’m sure we never mean to run off, but something always seems to happen.”

“This time it was a fire,” said Johnny.

“And the other time it was a little lost girl, crying in the street,” spoke Tommy.

“Well, never mind,” said the pieman. “I’ll sing a little song as we go along, and people will come to the doors or windows of their houses to see what I have to sell, and some of the people may see you children, and know you. Then they can tell me where to take you home.”

“Oh, goody!” cried Mary, dancing up and down, almost like Jiggily Jig did.

“Lots and lots of people know us,” said Johnny. “I’m sure that would be a very good plan.”

“Then we’ll do it,” spoke the pieman. “Now let me see, what song shall I sing? Oh, I know one.” And then he sang this song:

“I am a jolly pieman, My pies are nice and sweet; They’re made of many different things For boys and girls to eat. If you would kindly try them, I think you’d like them, too, Because there is a special pie Made specially for you.

“There’s lemon, peach and apple, And cocoanut and plum, And custard pie and orange, And also chewing-gum. But, best of all, is Christmas, A pie you all may eat, The kind Jack Horner had when he Sat in his corner seat.”

Well, no sooner had the kind pieman finished his song than all the people along the street began opening their doors and windows, and putting their heads out.

“Ho! Ho!” cried some boys and girls who were just home from school. “We would like some pies.”

“Then come and get them,” said the pieman, and the boys and girls, and lots of ladies, also, came around the pieman’s wagon, and bought his pies.

Then, when he was wrapping up the pies, or taking in the money, or making change, the pieman would say:

“Do any of you boys or girls, or ladies know where these children live?”

“Why, don’t they know where they live themselves?” asked one lady.

“Oh, no,” answered the pieman. “These are the three little Trippertrots, and they are always getting lost. I am looking for their house as I go along selling pies.”

But no one seemed to know where Mary or Johnny or Tommy lived. Lots and lots of boys and girls and ladies and men came out to buy pies, and they looked at the children, but none knew where they lived.

“Maybe some big giant has moved our house away,” said Tommy, “and that’s why we can’t find it.”

“Oh, of course not!” exclaimed Mary. “Giants don’t live around here.”

“Well, I wish they did,” said Johnny quickly.

“Why?” asked Tommy.

“Oh, then we could ask one of them to take us up on his shoulder, and he could walk about two of his steps and he would be right at our house, and we’d be home,” went on Johnny. “But I s’pose that can’t happen. We’ll have to trip and trot along until the pieman finds our house.”

So along through the streets they went, the pieman singing his little song, and selling pies, and asking all the people he met if they knew where the Trippertrots lived.

But no one did, and Mary and Tommy and Johnny were beginning to think they would never find their papa or mamma, or Suzette, the nursemaid, again.

And then, all of a sudden, as the pieman was pushing his cart down a little street where there were lots of trees, and many small houses with red chimneys on them sticking up through the roof--all of a sudden, I say--out ran a little girl, holding a dollie in her arms.

“Oh, Mr. Pieman!” cried the little girl. “I have been waiting such a long time for you!”

“Why, what is the matter?” asked the kind pieman.

“Oh, Sallie, my doll, is very ill,” said the little girl, “and I want some sawdust pie for her.”

“I have just one left,” said the pieman. “Here it is, and I hope she will soon be better.” Then he wrapped up the sawdust pie for the little girl’s doll, and he asked her--asked the little girl, I mean--if she knew where the Trippertrots lived. “For I can’t seem to find their home,” said the kind pieman, blinking both his eyes at once.

“No, I don’t know, where they live,” said the little girl, as she looked carefully at Mary, Johnny and Tommy.

“Oh, dear!” cried Mary. “I’m so tired walking about, looking for our home.”

“So am I!” exclaimed Johnny and Tommy.

“Then I know the very thing to do,” said the little girl, as she looked in the paper to see if her sawdust pie was all right. “Here comes the banana man, and he has quite a large wagon which he pushes about on its two wheels. Let him take you on his wagon, and ride you through the streets, and perhaps you may find your home that way.”

“Oh, goody!” cried Mary.

“It will be fun to ride in the banana wagon,” said Johnny, jumping up and down.

“Yes, and I think he can take us home,” spoke Tommy.

And just then along came the banana man, and he said he would be very glad to help the Trippertrots get home. So the pieman said good-by to them, and gave them each a little custard pie, and then he went off to find Simple Simon and Jiggly Jig.

“Jump on my wagon,” said the banana man, and the Trippertrot children did so, as there was lots of room. Up they hopped, and away they went along the street, looking for their house, and wondering how long it would be before they found the place.

ADVENTURE NUMBER TWELVE

THE TRIPPERTROTS AND THE BANANA MAN

“It’s almost as nice to ride on a banana wagon as it is on a load of hay,” said Mary. “This is just lovely, I think.”

“So do I,” agreed Tommy. “And there really _is_ hay on this wagon, so it’s almost like a straw ride.”

“Oh, yes, I always put the bananas on soft hay, so they won’t break open when the wagon goes over rough stones,” said the banana man. “But hold tight, now, as I am going very fast.” And so he did, and the children were bounced about, and up and down a bit, but then the hay was so soft that they didn’t get hurt in the least.

“Do you know where our house is?” asked Johnny, after a bit.

“No, but I think I can find it,” answered the banana man. “I know where lots and lots of houses are, and I’m sure one of them must be yours. I’ll go along through the street, and you can look at all the houses you see, and pretty soon you’ll see the right one.”

“Oh, but we have been away from home a long time,” said Tommy. “Ever since early this morning, when we went after the kind fireman to thank him. And we’ve been lost from then on.”

“And maybe some one has painted our house a different color,” spoke Johnny, “so we won’t know it even when we see it.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that,” spoke the banana man. “They couldn’t have painted your house since morning, and it isn’t night yet.”

“The false-face man could,” said Mary. “He is a very fast painter, but then I know he would make funny faces on our house, if he _did_ paint it, so we would know it anyhow.”

“Yes, that’s right,” said the banana man. “But lie down, now, and rest yourselves, and I will wheel you up first one street and then down the other, and soon you may be home.”

So he did that, and lots and lots of persons stopped to look at the funny sight of three lost children sitting on the hay in a two-wheeled banana wagon.

“Do you happen to know where they live?” the banana man would ask the different people who crowded around his wagon.

“No,” said every one, and the men and women shook their heads.

“Do you know any of these people?” the banana man then asked of the Trippertrot children. But neither Mary nor Johnny nor Tommy knew any of them.

“Then we will have to go along a little farther,” said the banana man; and so he went up some streets that were hilly, and down some that were smooth, and along some that were very rough with cobblestones, and all the while he kept wheeling the children in his wagon, or cart, if you’d rather call it that.

And once the wagon went over a stick of wood, and tipped to one side, and Mary nearly fell out. She would have, only Tommy grabbed her just in time, and held her on the hay.

And a little later there was a dog chasing a cat, and the cat ran so fast to get away from the dog that the pussy jumped right up in the wagon, into Mary’s lap.

“Oh, you poor, dear little pussy!” cried Mary, as she rubbed the cat’s fur, and tried to make its tail smaller, for it was all swelled up on account of the dog, you know.

“That cat looks like our cat, Ivy Vine,” said Tommy, when the banana man had driven away the dog.

“Oh, yes, I just wish Ivy Vine was here now,” said Mary.

“And I wish Fido was here,” spoke Johnny. “He is kind to cats.”

“Yes, if we could only find Ivy and Fido, they would show us the way home.” And Mary sighed a little, and a salty tear fell out of her left eye.