And while she was gone, and while the six little Bunkers looked at the ragged man, the children’s father talked to him.

“I’d like to find that tramp lumberman,” said Mr. Bunker.  “I gave him the coat because he needed it more than I did, but I didn’t know I had left the papers in the pocket.  You’re not the man, though.  I didn’t have a very good look at him, but he had a lot of red hair on his head:  I saw that much.”

“My hair’s black—­what there is of it,” said the ragged man.  “But I don’t know anything about your papers.  But if I see a red-haired lumberman in my travels around the country, I’ll tell him to send you back the papers.”

“That will be very kind of you,” said Mr. Bunker, “as I need them very much.  Do you think you might meet this red-haired lumberman tramp, who has my old coat?”

“Well, I might.  You never can tell.  I travel about a good bit, and I meet lots of fellers like myself, though I don’t know as I ever saw a lumberman.”

“This man wasn’t a regular tramp,” said Mr. Bunker.  “He was only tramping around looking for work, and he happened to stop at my place.”

“That’s like me,” said the black-haired tramp.  “I’m looking for work, too.  Got any wood that needs cutting?”

“Not now,” said Mr. Bunker with a smile.  “Jerry Simms cuts all my wood.  But I’ll give you some money, and maybe that will help you along, and the cook will fix you something to eat.”

“That’s very kind of you,” said the tramp.  “And if ever I see the man with your papers I’ll tell him to send ’em back.”  “Please do” begged Mr. Bunker.

By this time Norah had wrapped the tramp up a big paper bag full of bread and meat, with a piece of pie.  Tucking this under his arm, he shuffled off to go to some quiet place to eat.

Soon it was time to go to the square in the middle of the city, where the fireworks were to be shown.  The six little Bunkers, talking over the fun they had had that day, and thinking of the good times they were to have at Grandma Bell’s, walked along with their father and mother.  Behind them came Norah and Jerry Simms.

“Maybe the tramp will come to see the fireworks,” said Rose, who was walking beside Russ.

“You mean the red-headed one that has daddy’s papers?”

“No, I mean the one that came begging at our house to-night.”

“Well, maybe he will,” admitted Russ.  “If I was a tramp I’d walk all around and go to every place that I was sure they were going to have fireworks.”

“So would I,” said Rose.  “I love fireworks.”

“But you couldn’t be a tramp,” declared her brother.

“Why not?” Rose wanted to know.

“’Cause you’re a girl, and only men and boys are tramps.  I could be a tramp, but you couldn’t.”

[Illustration:  AND THEN THE FIREWORKS BEGAN.

Six Little Bunker’s at Grandma Bell’s.—­Page 58]

And then the fireworks began, and the six little Bunkers thought no more about tramps, missing papers, or even about the visit to Grandma Bell’s for a time, as they watched the red, green and blue fire, and saw the sky-rockets, balloons and other pretty things floating in the air.