If the red-haired tramp, or the one for whom Norah had put up the lunch that evening, came to the fireworks, the six little Bunkers did not see the ragged men.

They stayed until the last pinwheel had whizzed itself out in streams and stars of colored fire, until the last sky-rocket had gone hissing upward toward the clouds, and until the last glow of red fire had died away in the sky.

“Now we’ll go home!” said Mother Bunker.  “You tots must be tired.  You’ve had a full day, for you were up early.”

“But we’ve had lots of fun,” said Russ, “piles of it.”

“And now we’ll get ready to go to Grandma Bell’s, won’t we?” asked Rose.

“Yes.  To-morrow and for the next few days we’ll be busy getting ready to go to Maine,” said Mrs. Bunker.

“I want a balloon!” suddenly said Mun Bun.  He had not done much talking that evening.  Probably it was because he was too excited watching the fireworks.  It was the first time he had been taken to the evening celebration.

“Do you mean you want to go to Grandma Bell’s in a balloon?” asked his father.  “Maybe you mean you’re so tired you can’t walk any more, and you want a balloon to ride in.  Well, Mun Bun, we can’t get a balloon now, but I can carry you, and that will be pretty nearly the same, won’t it?”

“I want a balloon,” said the little boy again, “but I want you to carry me, too.  Can’t I have a balloon, Daddy?” and he nestled his tired head down on his father’s shoulder.  Norah was carrying Margy, but the other little Bunkers could walk.

“A balloon, is it?” said Mun’s father.  “Do you mean a fire-balloon?”

“No, they burn up,” said Mun Bun, in rather sleepy tones.  And, in truth, several of the paper balloons sent up that evening had caught fire.  “I want a big balloon I can ride in,” he said, “like Jerry told about.  I want to go up in a balloon!”

“Well, maybe you’ll dream about one,” said Mother Bunker with a laugh.  “And that will be better than a real one, because if you fall out of a dream balloon you land in bed.  But if you fall out of a real balloon you may land in the river.”

Mun Bun did not answer.  He was asleep on his father’s shoulder.

The next day, between times of walking around the yard looking for fire-crackers that, possibly, hadn’t exploded the day before, and finding stray torpedoes, the six little Bunkers talked of the fun they had had.  They went into the house, now and then, to see how Mother Bunker and Norah were coming on with the packing.  For a start had been made in getting ready to go to Grandma Bell’s, now that the Fourth of July was passed.

Mrs. Bunker was so busy that she did not keep as close watch over the children as usual, and it was nearly time for lunch before she thought of them.

“Norah, see if they’re all in the yard, please,” she said.  “And count them, to be sure all six are there.  Then we’ll get them something to eat, and do some more packing this afternoon.”