"He did, Mr. Bunker. And he said to thank you and that he was glad to get it. He went off wearing it."
"And my papers—worth a large sum of money—were in the pocket!" exclaimed Mr. Bunker. "I never thought about them, for I was so busy about selling Mr. Johnson the lumber. It's too bad!"
"I'm sorry," said the clerk. "If I had known the papers were in the old coat I'd have looked through the pockets before I gave it to the tramp."
"Oh, it wasn't your fault," said Mr. Bunker quickly. "It was my own. I should have remembered about the papers being in the coat. But do you know who that tramp was, and where he went?"
"I never saw him before," replied Mr. Donlin, "and I haven't seen him since. Maybe the police could find him."
"That's it! That's what we'll have to do!" cried Mr. Bunker. "I shall have to send the police to find the old lumberman; not that he has done anything wrong, but to get back my papers. He may keep the coat. Very likely he hasn't even found the papers. Yes, I must tell the police!"
But before Mr. Bunker could do this in came the postman with the mail. There were several letters for the real estate dealer, and when he saw one he exclaimed:
"Ah, this is from Grandma Bell! We must see what she has to say!"
Daddy Bunker opened the letter, which was written to him by his wife's mother—the children's grandmother—and when he had read a few lines, he exclaimed:
"Oh, ho! Here is news indeed! Good news!"