So on ran the Trippertrots, and on ran the nice old man, after his hat, which the wind was making go faster and faster, just like when you roll a hoop.
“Oh, I’m afraid my hat will be ruined!” cried the old man, as he saw it roll into a puddle of water, and bounce out again. “And it is a nice new hat, and inside the lining is a dollar bill that I was saving to buy a Christmas present for my little grandson.”
“Oh, then we must surely get that hat!” said Mary, and she ran on faster than ever, and Tommy and Johnny Trippertrot also ran faster, and the old man ran as fast as he could.
“Look out!” suddenly cried Mary. “That automobile is going to run over your hat, and if it does it will squash it flatter than a sheet of paper.”
“So it will!” agreed the old man, as he looked up in time to see a big automobile rushing along the street, and his hat was almost under the fat wheels of the car.
“Hi, there, Mr. Auto Man! Stop your machine, if you please!” cried the old man. “Don’t run over my hat!”
And the auto man stopped his car just in time—that is, almost in time—for he just ran over a little part of the rim of the hat, and broke off a small piece.
“Oh, that’s too bad!” exclaimed Mary, as she made a grab for the tall silk hat, but she was just too late.
“Oh, never mind,” spoke the old man, as the hat went rolling on down another street, just as Tom-Tom the piper’s son ran roaring down the street after he took the pig, you know. “I can mend the broken place with court-plaster, if only I can get my hat.”
“We’ll help you,” said Tommy, and then the Trippertrot children ran on faster than ever after the old man’s hat.