“Do you?” asked Cap’n Bill doubtfully.
“Then you’re some smarter ner I am, mate.”
“He sailed down with the umbrel!” she
cried. “He used his umbrel as a para—para—”
“Shoot,” said Cap’n Bill. “They’re
called parashoots, mate; but why, I can’t say.
Did you drop down in that way, my lad?” he asked
the boy.
“Yes,” said Button-Bright. “That
was the way.”
“But how did you get up there?” asked
Trot. “You had to get up in the air before
you could drop down, an’—oh, Cap’n
Bill! He says he’s from Phillydelfy, which
is a big city way at the other end of America.”
“Are you?” asked the sailor, surprised.
Button-Bright nodded again. “I ought to
tell you my story,” he said, “and then
you’d understand. But I’m afraid you
won’t believe me, and—” he
suddenly broke off and looked toward the white house
in the distance “—Didn’t you
say you lived over there?” he inquired.
“Yes,” said Trot. “Won’t
you come home with us?”
“I’d like to,” replied Button-Bright.
“All right, let’s go then,” said
the girl, jumping up.
The three walked silently along the path. The
old sailorman had refilled his pipe and lighted it
again, and he smoked thoughtfully as he pegged along
beside the children. “Know anyone around
here?” he asked Button-Bright.
“No one but you two,” said the boy, following
after Trot, with his umbrella tucked carefully underneath
his arm.
“And you don’t know us very well,”
remarked Cap’n Bill. “Seems to me
you’re pretty young to be travelin’ so
far from home an’ among strangers. But
I won’t say anything more till we’ve heard
your story. Then, if you need my advice, or Trot’s
advice—she’s a wise little girl,
fer her size, Trot is—we’ll freely
give it an’ be glad to help you.”
“Thank you,” replied Button-Bright.
“I need a lot of things, I’m sure, and
p’raps advice is one of ’em.”
When they reached the neat frame cottage which stood
on a high bluff a little back from the sea and was
covered with pretty green vines, a woman came to the
door to meet them. She seemed motherly and good,
and when she saw Button-Bright, she exclaimed, “Goodness
me! Who’s this you’ve got, Trot?”
“It’s a boy I’ve just found,”
explained the girl. “He lives way off in
Phillydelphy.”
“Mercy sakes alive!” cried Mrs. Griffith,
looking into his upturned face. “I don’t
believe he’s had a bite to eat since he started.
Ain’t you hungry, child?”
“Yes,” said Button-Bright.
“Run, Trot, an’ get two slices o’
bread-an’-butter,” commanded Mrs. Griffith.
“Cut ’em thick, dear, an’ use plenty
of butter.”
“Sugar on ’em?” asked Trot, turning
to obey.
“No,” said Button-Bright. “Just
bread-an’-butter’s good enough when you’re
hungry, and it takes time to spread sugar on.”
