Part 9

“Yes, we got home then all right,” said Mary, “and I think we will this time. Go on, Mr. Coachman, if you please, and we will tell you when we come to our house, so you can stop and let us out.”

“Bless their dear little innocent hearts!” exclaimed the coachman--and he spoke to the horses to make them go faster--“I never saw such children in all the days of my life. Not to know where they live! Ah, well, sure the little fairies will watch over ’em, and me, too, I hope, and I’ll get them safely home if I can.”

So he drove on and on, through street after street, but he couldn’t seem to find the Trippertrot house, and, though the children looked out of the carriage windows, and ate their peanuts, they couldn’t see their house, either.

And then, all of a sudden, as Mary was looking at the nice horses, and wondering if they would ever get home again--all at once, I say--she saw a poor little ragged boy standing on the street corner, and he was crying.

“Oh, Tommy and Johnny! Look there!” exclaimed Mary. “That little boy is crying. Something must be the matter.”

“I guess there is,” said Johnny. “We ought to help him.”

“We will!” exclaimed Tommy. “Oh, Mr. Coachman, stop, if you please!” he called out of the front window of the carriage.

“Why, what is the matter?” asked the coachman. “Have you found your house?”

“Not yet,” answered Mary, “but we have found a poor little boy, and we want to see what is the matter with him.”

So the coachman stopped the horses, and out jumped Tommy. He went right up to the poor little crying boy, and asked:

“What is the matter? Are you hurt?”

“No, I am lost,” said the poor little boy, and he cried harder than ever.

“My! My!” exclaimed Tommy, in his jolly little voice. “That is nothing. We are lost, too, and we don’t mind it a bit. We are always getting lost. But the coachman is taking us home, and I know he’ll take you home also. Get in the carriage.”

So the poor little ragged boy started to get into the carriage. The coachman saw him and cried out:

“I say now, where are you going?”

“He is coming with us,” answered Mary. “He is lost; and will you please take him home, too?”

“Oh! Oh!” cried the coachman. “This is the worst I ever heard! Here are you children who don’t know where your own home is and you’re trying to find a home for another lost boy. Oh, dear! This is terrible! Terrible!”

“But I _do_ know where my home is,” said the poor little boy, “only it got away from me somehow or other. I know what street it’s on.”

“Do you, indeed?” cried the coachman. “Then that’s more than the Trippertrots know. Whisper now, and tell me where is your home, and I’ll take you to it as fast as the horses can trot. And then, maybe, we’ll have good luck, and find out where these children live.”

So the little boy, who had stopped crying now, told the name of his street and the number of his house. I forget where it was, but that doesn’t matter.

“Oh, joy! Now I know where I’m going,” said the coachman, and the horses started up. Inside the coach the three Trippertrots were eating peanuts, and, of course, they gave the little boy some, and he liked them very much.

And then, all of a sudden, the little boy cried:

“Oh, there’s my house!”

“Are you sure?” asked the coachman. But the little boy didn’t have to answer, for just then out ran a lady.

“Oh, Teddy!” she cried, when she saw the poor little boy. “I thought I would never see you again! Where have you been?” and she took him in her arms.

“I’ve been lost, mamma,” he said, “and these nice children brought me home.”

“And where do you live?” asked the lady.

“That’s the trouble,” said Mary sadly. “Everyone seems to have a home but us.”

And now I’m coming to the strange part of this adventure. Just as Mary said that, along the street came a man with a long, white beard, and as soon as Johnny saw him he cried out:

“Oh, there is the nice old fisherman! You’ll take us home, won’t you?”

“Yes, please do,” said Tommy.

“We wish it so very much,” added Mary. “Won’t you, please?”

“To be sure I will,” said the old fisherman, and there he stood, the same one who had fished up the rubber boots and the raincoat and the umbrella, and who had taken the children to the house of the false-face man. “I’ll take you home,” he said. So he got into the carriage with the Trippertrots, and away they went.

ADVENTURE NUMBER TWENTY

THE TRIPPERTROTS AND THE LITTLE GIRL

“And where have you been since I saw you last?” asked the fisherman of Mary, as she and her brothers sat on the coach cushions eating peanuts.

“Oh, we have been getting lost nearly every day,” she replied. “Haven’t we, boys?”

“Yes, indeed,” answered Tommy and Johnny together. “This time it was a nice big dog that made us get lost,” added Tommy.

“And on other times it was a pink cow, or the dancing bears,” added Johnny.

“My! You children certainly have strange adventures,” said the old fisherman, with a jolly laugh. “But I think they will soon be over to-day, as we will be home in a little while.”

“Tell me,” said the coachman, as he turned around to speak to the old fisherman, “do you know where these children live? For they don’t themselves, and I never saw nor heard of such a thing in all the born days of my life. Do you know where they live?”

“Oh, yes,” said the old fisherman.

“Thank goodness for that!” exclaimed the coachman. “Get up, horses, we will soon have them home, and then we can go home ourselves, and I’ll give you your suppers. Not that I want to be impolite,” the coachman said quickly, “but you must see that it is a strange thing to be driving around with children who don’t know where they live.”

“It _is_ queer,” admitted Mary, as she ate the last of her peanuts.

“The next time we get lost,” said Tommy, “we’ll tie a string to our house and take the cord with us, and when we want to go back, all we’ll have to do will be to follow the string.”

“That’s a good idea,” said the old fisherman, and then he told the coachman where to drive, so as to get to the Trippertrot house as soon as possible.

“Have you caught any more queer fish?” asked Tommy, as they drove along, for he could not help thinking of the rubber boots, and the umbrella, that the fisherman had pulled up on the hammock-hook out of the little lake.

“No, I haven’t been fishing since then,” said the old gentleman. “But I have my hammock-hook now, and, if the driver will lend me one of the lines, I’ll fish right here, out of the carriage window.”

“Why, you can’t catch anything by fishing out of a carriage window,” said Mary politely.

“How do you know?” inquired the old fisherman, with a smile. “Did you ever try it?”

“No,” said Mary, “I never have.”

“Then you can’t tell!” exclaimed the fisherman. “Why, I have caught fish in the queerest places you ever heard of, and then again, I’ve gone fishing in places where I was sure there were fish, and I never got a bite--except a mosquito bite. So you never can tell.

“Why, once I was in the market, getting something to eat, and I happened to drop my umbrella, that had a crooked handle. And when I picked it up, there was a fish fast to it. What do you think of that?”

“Oh, well, yes, of course!” exclaimed Johnny. “There are fish in a market, for people want to buy them. I believe _that_ all right.”

“So do I,” said Tommy.

“But listen to this,” said the old fisherman. “Once I was in a lady’s house, and I went in the parlor, and there was a glass jar there on the table. I put my finger in the jar and a fish bit me. What do you think of that?”

“Oh, yes, but,” said Mary, “they were goldfish, in water, in the jar. I have often seen goldfish in a parlor.”

“Then,” said the old fisherman, “if there are goldfish in a parlor and other fish in the meat market, how can you tell but what there may be fish in this carriage? I’m going to try, anyhow, for I haven’t fished in some time. Please, Mr. Coachman, lend me a piece of the horse lines.”

So the coachman did this, and the old fisherman fastened the line on his hammock-hook, and then he sat on the seat, and let the hook dangle on the floor.

Every once in a while the old fisherman would pull up the horse line, with the hammock-hook on it, and he would look carefully at it. But each time there was nothing on, and the fisherman was much disappointed.

“I’m afraid you will never get any fish in here,” said Mary, after a while.

“No, indeed!” exclaimed Tommy. “For we have been riding in here for some time, and if there were any fish we would know it.”

“Besides,” added Johnny, “there isn’t any water here, or else our feet would be wet, and fish can’t live without water.”

“I believe you’re right!” exclaimed the old fisherman. “I never thought of that. I have made a mistake. I should have put my hook out of the back window of the carriage. I’ll do it now,” and he did so at once, and then he sat very quietly, waiting for a bite, while the coachman drove on to the Trippertrot house.

All at once the old fisherman cried out:

“I have a bite! I have a bite!”

“Is it a mosquito bite?” asked Mary quickly. “Because if it is you must put witch hazel on it.”

“No, it is a fish bite,” said the old gentleman.

“On your finger?” asked Tommy.

“No, on the hammock-hook,” said the old gentleman, and then he pulled in the horse-fish-line, and there, on the hammock-hook, was a tall silk hat, such as doctors sometimes wear.

“Oh, what a funny catch!” exclaimed Mary.

“Isn’t it, though!” agreed the fisherman. “I don’t know when I ever caught a silk hat before.”

He was just taking the hat off the hook, and looking at it to see if there were any holes in it, when all at once the coach stopped and the coachman said:

“If you please, sir, there is trouble out here.”

“What sort of trouble?” asked the old fisherman.

“Why, there is a gentleman here, sir, without any hat, and he says, sir, that it’s in my coach.”

“I shouldn’t wonder but what he was right,” spoke the queer fisherman. “I think _I_ have his hat.”

“Ha! What do you mean by taking off my hat?” asked a voice, and there, at the coach window, stood a little man, with a very red face. “Where is my hat?” he cried.

“Here it is,” answered the fisherman. “I beg your pardon. You see when I fish I never can tell what I am going to catch. I hope I haven’t bothered you.”

“Well, if I don’t catch cold I won’t mind,” said the little man with the red face. And he took the hat from the fisherman, put it on his head, and hurried off.

Then the coachman drove his horses on some more, and the queer old fisherman dangled his hammock-hook out of the back carriage window again.

“I wonder what we shall catch this time?” he said to the children, with a jolly laugh.

“Oh, maybe you’ll catch a chocolate cake,” said Tommy.

“Or an orange pudding,” added Mary.

“Or a dish of ice cream,” said Johnny.

“Well, it might happen,” spoke the fisherman. “Hello! I have something, anyhow,” he cried, as he pulled in the hook and line.

And what do you suppose was dangling on the end of it?

Why, a lady’s bonnet, of course! Yes, a real lady’s bonnet, all covered with flowers, and lace, and ribbons, and things like that. I mean the bonnet was covered with those things--not the lady, you understand.

“Why--why!” exclaimed the fisherman, with a pleased laugh. “I don’t know when I have caught a lady’s bonnet before. I am having very good luck to-day.”

Then, just as he was taking the bonnet off the hook, the coachman stopped the horses and said:

“If you please, sir, there is more trouble out here!”

“What sort of trouble?” asked the fisherman.

“Why, there is a lady here, sir, that says you have her new bonnet.”

“I shouldn’t wonder,” spoke the fisherman. “This must be it. It got caught on my hook by mistake.”

“Oh, I hope it’s not torn!” cried the lady, as she looked in at the coach window.

“Not in the least,” said the fisherman politely, as he gave the bonnet to her.

And on they went again.

“I must be careful what I catch next time,” said the fisherman, as he once more put the hammock-hook out of the back window of the coach. In a minute he pulled it in again, and this time there was a loaf of bread on it, all wrapped up in paper, and tied with a pink string. And no sooner had the bread been pulled in, than there was a crying sound out in the street, and a voice said:

“Oh, my bread! Some one has taken my loaf of bread, and I haven’t any money to buy any more! Oh, dear!”

“Bless me!” cried the old fisherman. “I wouldn’t have taken any one’s loaf of bread for the world.”

Then he looked out of the coach window, and he saw a poor little girl crying real, salty tears.

“Oh, my! don’t cry,” said the kind fisherman. “Are you lost, too?”

“No, but I was coming home from the store, with a loaf of bread,” said the poor little girl, “and all at once I--I didn’t have it.”

“Ah, here it is,” said the old fisherman kindly, and he handed it to her out of the coach window. Well, you just should have seen how wide open the little girl’s eyes were.

“Are--are you one of the magicians that makes rabbits come out of a hat?” the poor little girl asked.

“Oh, yes. I can do those tricks sometimes,” said the old fisherman. “I just caught your bread by mistake.”

“Oh, will you do some tricks?” cried Mary and Johnny and Tommy, all together.

“Not now, some other day,” said the old fisherman. “Get up in the carriage, little girl, and we will take you home.”

So the poor little girl got up in the carriage, and as she knew where her home was, the coachman soon drove her there, and the old fisherman gave her ten cents.

“And now for the Trippertrot house!” cried the old fisherman, as they started off again. “We’ll soon be there.”

“And very glad I’ll be of it!” said the coachman, “for such queer goings on I never saw before in all the born days of my life. Fishing out of a coach! The idea!”

All of a sudden, as the children and the old fisherman were riding along, a policeman, who was on a horse, galloped up to the coach, and holding up his hand to stop it, cried out:

“Is the old fisherman in there?”

“Of course I am,” replied the fisherman. “What is the matter?”

“You are wanted at once,” spoke the policeman. “Down at the bird and animal store. The big glass globe, where the goldfish swim, was upset by a puppy dog wagging his tail, and the fish are all flopping over the floor. The man who owns them wants you to come and help him catch them.”

“Of course, I’ll go at once,” said the kind old fisherman. “It will be fun for the children to watch me catch the fish.”

“No, the Trippertrot children must stay here,” said the policeman. “I forgot to tell you that a snake also got loose when the fish fell out of the globe, and we wouldn’t want the children to be bitten by the snake.”

“No, indeed, we don’t want to be, either,” spoke Mary. “But what is to become of us? Who will take care of us? How will we ever get home?”

“Oh, I will look after you,” said the policeman. “Here, I will wrap you up in my nice coat,” he went on, taking off the coat that he wore.

“But where will we stay?” asked Tommy.

“Yes, we must stay somewhere, until the coach and the old fisherman come back for us,” went on Johnny.

“Ha! I have it! The very thing!” cried the policeman, as he saw a man going past carrying a big rocking-chair on his head. “Let me take that chair for the Trippertrot children to sit in until this coach comes back,” the policeman said to the man, and the man did it at once.

So the policeman wrapped the three children in his coat, and set them in the big rocking-chair, close to a street lamp-post, so the coachman could easily find them again when he came back.

“I’ll just write your names and addresses on a card, and tie it to the chair,” said the policeman. “Then there will be no trouble about you getting home again.” So he did that, for he knew where the Trippertrots lived, though he didn’t have time to take them home himself.

Then the policeman rode away on his horse, and the fisherman drove off in the coach to catch the goldfish, and the children were left sitting in the rocking-chair on the street, beside the lamp-post.

And they didn’t mind it a bit, not even when it began to rain all of a sudden, for they were very snug in the coat.

Well, it rained and it rained, and pretty soon the children were so nice and cozy and warm that they went to sleep. And then, who should come along but an expressman, driving his wagon, and the wagon was painted red.

“Whoa!” called the expressman to his horse, as he saw the rocking-chair by the lamp-post. “I must see what this is. Maybe it dropped off some one’s wagon.”

So he went up to the rocking-chair, and my goodness me sakes alive and a spoonful of mustard! Wasn’t he surprised when he opened the big coat, and saw Mary and Tommy and Johnny sleeping inside it.

“Why, this is very strange!” said the expressman. “I wonder who could have left three little children out in the rain like this?” Then he looked at his wagon to see if he would have room for them inside it. And he thought he had.

“My! My! My sakes alive and some Thanksgiving turkey!” cried the expressman. “I never heard of such a thing in all my born days and nights! I am certainly surprised!”

“Heard of what? What is the matter?” cried Tommy, who suddenly awakened, and looked up at the expressman. “What is it that you are surprised at? Is it a surprise party?”

“No, indeed,” replied the expressman. “But I am surprised that any one would leave you here in the storm like this.”

“The policeman did,” explained Mary, “but he wrapped us up in his big coat. We were with the old fisherman, but he had to go away to catch the goldfish that spilled all over the floor. I guess he is coming back for us.”

“But if he doesn’t, what are we to do?” asked Johnny. “I wish some one could take us home now.”

“Perhaps this nice expressman can take us home,” suggested Tommy, for he could see the expressman’s wagon standing there.

“Of course, I could take you home, if I knew where you lived,” said the expressman.

“It’s written on a tag tied to the chair,” said Mary, in her most polite voice.

“What is?” asked the expressman. “What is written there?”

“The address where we live,” went on the little Trippertrot girl. “Do you think you can find our house?”

“Of course I can,” answered the expressman. “I’ll soon have you home. You’ll be all right now, and I’ll pull the canvas sides down on my wagon, and you’ll be as nice and snug as you can be, even though it rains all the while, for my express wagon has a top on it. And later on I’ll tell the policeman and the fisherman that I took you away. Then they won’t worry.”

So he picked up the chair and the children, both at the same time, still wrapped in the coat as they were, and the expressman put them, chair and all, into his big wagon. Then, having looked at the address on the tag, which told on which street the Trippertrot family lived, and the number of the house, the expressman whistled a funny, jolly little tune to his horse, and away he galloped through the storm, up one street and down another.

And, oh! how nice, and warm, and cozy it was for the Trippertrot children in the express wagon. The canvas sides kept out the wind and the rain, and none of the drops could get in the top, for there was a roof over the wagon. It was so warm in there (for there was a nice lantern all lighted and burning, as it was getting dark)--it was so warm, I say--that the children didn’t need the coat around them any more.

“Let’s get out of the chair, and see the different things that are in the wagon,” suggested Mary, after a while.

“Oh, yes, let’s,” agreed Johnny. “We have never ridden in an express wagon before. This is a new adventure.”

So they laid aside the coat, and crawled out of the big rocking-chair. They saw lots of boxes and packages in the wagon, and they wondered what they contained, but they were too polite to ask. In fact, the expressman was too busy to answer them, for the storm was quite bad now, and he had all he could do to drive his horse through it. But it was fun for the children in the wagon, as they were warm, and they could see very well by the light of the lantern.

All of a sudden, in one corner of the wagon they heard a noise that sounded like:

“Cut! Cut! Cut-ka-dah-cut!”

“What’s that?” cried Johnny.

“That’s a chicken,” answered Tommy.

“What, in this wagon?” asked Mary.

“It sounded so,” went on Tommy. “Let’s look around and find it.”

So the children began looking in and around the different boxes and packages, until, all of a sudden, Mary saw a little box, with slats nailed across the front, like a small chicken-coop, and inside was a dear, little red hen.

“Cut! Cut! Cut-ka-dah-cut!” called the red hen.

“Oh, you little dear!” exclaimed Mary. “I wish I had you for my own.”

“Maybe it is coming to our house for a present to us,” suggested Tommy.

“See if there’s a tag on it, like on our rocking-chair, to tell where the expressman is to leave it,” said Johnny.

“No, there isn’t any,” said Mary, after she had looked.

“Cut! Cut! Cut-ka-dah-cut!” cried the red hen again, just as if she was trying to tell where she belonged.

“Has she laid any eggs?” asked Tommy.