“We hadn’t better go any farther,” answered Tommy, “or else we’ll be more lost than we are now.”
“We can’t be any more lost,” replied Mary, quickly. “But I think we had better stay here until something happens.”
“Well, I wish it would happen very soon,” said Tommy. “Oh, if only the old fisherman, or Jiggily Jig, the funny boy, or even Simple Simon, or the pieman, would come along now they might show us the way home.”
So they looked up and down the street, but they saw no one, and then, all at once, they heard a jolly whistle.
“Oh, there’s the postman!” cried Mary, jumping up. “Now we can give him back the letter he dropped out of his bag, and he will take us home.”
“But that doesn’t sound like the postman,” spoke Tommy.
“I don’t think so either,” added Johnny.
“Then I wonder who it can be?” asked Mary, for there was no letter-man to be seen. “Who whistled? Is somebody playing a trick?”
“I did!” cried a jolly voice, and, just as true as I’m telling you, out from behind a telegraph pole danced Jiggily Jig, the funny boy. “I whistled,” he said, and then he turned two somersaults, one after the other, and laughed in such a jolly way, that the Trippertrots didn’t in the least mind being lost.
“Where did you come from?” asked Mary.