"Can't I stay and see the firemen just a little longer?" begged
Freddie.
"I don't believe they are going to do much more," answered his father. "Their work is nearly done. All the people who were hurt have been taken away."
This was true. The scene of the wreck was now being cleared, and in a little while the damaged engine and cars would be hauled away to the shops to be mended.
"Did you get everything belonging to you, Mr. Hickson?" asked Mr.
Bobbsey of the man who had been slightly hurt in the wreck.
"Yes, I have my satchel," he answered. "And as I was going to get out at the Lakeport station I'm right at the place where I was going, even if there had been no wreck." "And so you were coming to see me, were you?" asked Mr. Bobbsey. "Well, I don't know what your plans are, but I would be very glad to have you come to supper with me."
"Maybe your wife mightn't like it," said Mr. Hickson. "She might not be ready for company, and I'd better tell you that I'm quite hungry."
"So'm I!" exclaimed Freddie. "I'm hungry, and I eat a lot. But
Dinah—she's our cook—has lots to eat in her kitchen!"
"Well, then maybe she'd have enough for me," replied Mr. Hickson, with a laugh. "If you're sure it won't put your wife out I'll come," he said to Mr. Bobbsey. "I want to see you, anyhow, and have a talk with you. I want to ask your advice."
"Very well, come along, then," returned the children's father.
"We can talk after supper," went on Mr. Bobbsey, as the little party walked along the Lakeport street away from the railroad wreck. "That is, if you feel able, Mr. Hickson."