"The Employment Agency for her," said the Piper.
"I'll attend to that," added the Policeman.
Gwendolyn's father had been gathering candles, and had seemed not to see what was transpiring. Now as if he was satisfied with his load, he suddenly started away in the direction he had come. His firm stride jolted the talking-machine not a little. The quacking cries recommenced—
"Please to pay me.... Let me sell you...! Let me borrow...! Won't you hire...! Quack! Quack! Quack!"
After him hurried the others in an excited group. The Piper led it, his plumbing-tools jangling, his pig-poke a-swing. And Gwendolyn saw him grin back over a shoulder craftily—then lay hold of her father and tighten a strap.
She trudged in the rear. She had found her father—and he could see only the candles he sought, and the money in his grasp! She was out in the open with him once more, where she was free to gambol and shout—yet he was bound by his harness and heavily laden.
"I might just as well be home," she said to Puffy, disheartened.
"Wish your father'd let me sharpen his ears," whispered the Man-Who-Makes-Faces. He shifted the hand-organ to the other shoulder.
The Doctor had a basket on his arm. He peered into it. "I haven't a thing about me," he declared, "but a bread-pill."
"How would a glass of soda-water do?" suggested the Policeman, in an undertone.