“And see how it rolls along the street!” exclaimed Johnny. “It’s almost as good as a football,” and he laughed out loud.
“Oh, you shouldn’t laugh when any one is in trouble,” spoke Mary, kindly.
“He can’t hear me,” answered Johnny. “Besides, I am really sorry for him.”
“If you are sorry I should think you would go out and help him catch his hat,” spoke Tommy. And truly, the hat of the old man was now rolling swiftly along the street, where the wind blew it, and the old gentleman was chasing after it—after his hat, I mean, not after the wind. Oh, my goodness me, no, and a basket of onions besides!
“We are not to leave the house—mamma said so,” spoke Mary, firmly.
“But I think this is a special, extra-extraordinary occasion,” declared Tommy. “Mamma would want us to go out and help catch the hat for the old man if she were here. I’m sure she would, for she always likes us to be kind to old people, and that gentleman can’t catch his hat all by himself. He can’t run fast enough.”
“That’s right,” agreed Johnny. “See him run! Oh, see him run!”
And, surely enough, the old gentleman was running after his hat as fast as anything. But, no matter how fast he ran, the wind blew his hat still faster, and it rolled along just in front of him. Every once in a while the old man would think he had the hat, and then the wind would come in a sudden puff, and presto-chango! away the hat would roll again, down the street.
“Oh, we ought to help him!” exclaimed Mary Trippertrot. “There is no one else out in the street to do it.”
“Then I will!” cried Tommy. “I’m going to get his hat for him.”