Bert looked up the street and saw a man leading the team back. The horses were quiet enough now. They had become tired, had slowed down, and had easily been stopped.
“They’re all right—no damage done,” said Bert. “But you two have got to be more careful with Baby May. She might have been run over.”
“I’ll be more careful after this,” promised Flossie.
“So will I,” added Freddie, though it really was not his fault.
Mrs. Bobbsey was told what had happened—or rather, what had so nearly happened—and she decided that Flossie was too young to take Baby May out unless some older person was at hand to watch for danger.
Baby May cooed and smiled when she was lifted out of the baby carriage to be fed, and she made funny faces at Freddie and clutched at his nose with her soft little hand, causing Freddie to squirm, partly in delight and partly because she tickled him.
The days passed with no word as to who Baby May was. All that Mr. Bobbsey and the police did to find the parents of the little baby went for nothing.
“I guess, Mother,” said Mr. Bobbsey to his wife, “we’ll have to keep this baby a long time.”
“I don’t care how long we keep her,” was the answer. “I’ve grown to love her!”
Bert and Nan, as well as Flossie and Freddie, also loved Baby May, and they hoped nothing would ever take her from them. Though of course they agreed with their father that if the child’s mother and father could be found, they must have Baby May.