“That’s strange,” said the headless man. “I never saw a house disappear.”
“Well, we did,” the children assured him. And nothing would do but they tell him all about it. With three of them to tell it, what one forgot the others supplied and nothing was left out. They expected him to say “Nonsense” to this and “Fiddlesticks” to that. But he didn’t. He listened to every word just as if he believed in magic too.
There were tears in Muffs’ eyes when she told him about the vase and how she had broken it. Such a pretty vase and she had barely touched it.
“I guess it’s just the way I am,” she sighed. “I’m always and always breaking things. Even when I was a little baby——”
The headless man interrupted her with a cough and, all at once, Muffs wondered if they weren’t telling too much.
“I don’t know you very well,” she said. “Mother says I mustn’t talk to people unless I know their names.”
“The Headless Man fits me very well,” the stranger said sorrowfully, “but perhaps even a headless man could do something.”
“You could if you knew the Bramble Bush Man. He lives in a house with looking-glass walls——”
“He does indeed!”
“You’ll help us find him!” the children cried. “You really know him?”