"I never saw such little tykes as Flossie and Freddie have gotten to be lately," said Mrs. Bobbsey to Nan that night.
"This being in a big city seems just to suit them, though," returned Nan.
"Yes. But I wish your father would come back. I feel rather lost without him in this big hotel."
"I'm here," said Bert, with a smile.
"Yes, you'll have to be my little man, now. And do, please, keep watch of Flossie and Freddie while your father is away. There's no telling what they'll do next."
And really there was not. For instance, who would have supposed that a goat—
But there, I'd better start at the beginning of this part of my story.
It was a few days after the ride in the automobile patrol that Mrs. Bobbsey received word that a friend whom she had known when they were both small children was living in New York. This lady asked Mrs. Bobbsey to call and see her.
"We do not live in a nice part of New York," wrote the lady—who was a Mrs. Robinson—in her letter, "for we can't pay much rent. But our apartment house is not hard to reach from your hotel, and I would very much like to see you. Come and bring the children. They can watch the other children playing in the streets. I know the streets are not a very nice place to play in, but that's all we have in New York."