"My name's Tom," was the answer. "What's yours?"
"Flossie Bobbsey, an' I'm a twin an' we're campin' on this island, and we had some bugs that went around and around and——"
"Flossie, come here," called Nan. She did not want her little sister to talk too much to the strange boy. Nan had an idea the boy might belong to the gypsies.
"I saw him first," put in Freddie. "I saw his face all covered with blueberries, and I dropped my standwich—I did."
He began looking on the ground for what he had been eating, but finding, when he picked up the bread and bits of chicken, that ants were crawling all over the "standwich," he tossed it away again.
"Aw, what'd you do that for?" asked Tom, the blueberry boy. "That was good to eat! Ain't you hungry?"
"Yes, but I don't like ants," returned Freddie. "'Sides, there's more to eat in the basket!"
"Cracky!" exclaimed Tom. "That's fine! There isn't anything in my basket but blueberries, and not many of them. You get tired of eatin' 'em after a while, too."
"Are you—are you hungry?" asked Bert. As yet no one else had appeared except the boy. He seemed to be all alone. And he was not much larger than Bert.
"Hungry? You'd better believe I'm hungry!" answered the boy with a laugh that showed his white teeth with his blueberry-stained lips and face all around them. "I thought I'd have a lot of berries picked by noon, so I could row back to shore, sell 'em and get somethin' to eat. But the berries ain't as ripe as I thought they'd be—it's too early I guess—so I've got to go hungry."