“Everything out?” asked the head mover of Mr. Tiptop.
“I guess so,” he answered. “I’ll take a trolley car, and I think we’ll be there ahead of you. It’s only about a ten-mile drive to Riverdale. I’m glad nothing got broken.”
“And I’m glad nobody got stepped on,” said the man with the big feet, as he looked first at Tommy and then at his own large shoes. “I’m real glad of that.”
Then Tommy had an idea, as he saw the head mover climbing to the big seat, high up on the van.
“Can’t I ride with him?” asked Tommy, pointing to the man. “I don’t want to go in the trolley. It’s no fun. Let me ride on the wagon, mamma.”
“Moving; Going to Riverdale,” Replied Tommy, Proudly.
“Shall we?” asked Mrs. Tiptop of her husband, doubtfully.
“Oh, I guess it will be all right, if he isn’t a bother.”
“No bother at all,” the head mover assured Mr. Tiptop. The man seemed to have taken a liking to Tommy. “I’ll look after him,” he went on. “The drive will do him good, and there’s no hurry. He’ll be safe.”