So the Trippertrot boys did this, and soon the lady had warmed some milk for the baby, and then it wiggled its pink toes, and held tight hold of Mary’s little finger, and drank the milk out of a bottle just as any baby should.
“Oh, he’s too sweet and cute for anything!” cried the little Trippertrot girl. “I wish he was mine.”
“Well, I can’t give up my baby,” said the nice lady, “but some day you may come, and take him out in his carriage. But I am sorry to hear that you are lost. Don’t you know where your home is?”
“No, we never do,” answered Tommy. “We’re the Trippertrots, you know.”
“Oh, yes, I’ve heard of you,” said the lady. “Well, perhaps I can think of some way to send you home.”
And all of a sudden there was a noise out in the street, and Mary, looking from the window, cried:
“There goes the milkman’s horse! He’s running away.”
And the next moment there was a knock on the door, and in came the old fisherman who used to catch fish in the bathtub.
“Oh, how glad I am that I have found you,” said the old fisherman to the children. “I have been looking all over for you. Now I will take you home.” And then what do you think? He took his fishpole and began fishing in the baby’s carriage!