Then Jerry had to go to get some gasolene for the automobile, as Mr. Bunker kept a machine, as well as a horse and carriage, and the children were left to themselves. They were thinking about the fireworks they were to see in the evening, and talking about the fun they would have at Grandma Bell's, when Russ, who got up to go down on the grass and turn a somersault, suddenly stopped and looked at a man coming up the side path.

   The man was a very ragged one, and he shuffled along in shoes that seemed about to drop off his feet. He had on a battered hat, and was not at all nice-looking.

   "Oh, look!" whispered Rose, who saw the ragged man almost as soon as Russ did.

   "I see him!" Russ answered. "That's a tramp! I guess it's the one daddy gave his coat to with the papers in. Maybe he's come to give 'em back. Oh, wouldn't that be good!"

   Six little Bunkers looked at the ragged man coming up the walk toward the porch. He was a tramp—of that even Mun Bun, the smallest of the six, was sure.

   "Have you got anything for a hungry man?" asked the ragged chap, taking off his ragged hat. "I'm a poor man, and I haven't any work and I'm hungry."

   "Did you bring back my daddy's papers?" asked Russ.

   "What papers?" asked the tramp, and he seemed very much surprised. "I'm not the paper man," he went on. "I saw a boy coming up the street a while ago with a bundle of papers under his arm. I guess maybe he's your paper boy. I'm a hungry man——"

   "I don't mean the newspaper," went on Russ, for the other little Bunkers were leav

   ing the talking to him. "But did you bring back the real estate papers?"

   "The real estate papers?" murmured the tramp, looking around.

   "'Tisn't any riddle," added Laddie. "Is it, Russ?"

   "No, it isn't a riddle," went on the older boy. "But did you bring back daddy's papers that he gave you?"

   "He didn't give me any papers!" exclaimed the tramp.

   "They were in a ragged coat," added Rose. "In the pocket."

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