They were soon near the junction, where two railroad lines came together, and there the Bunkers were to change.  They gathered up their belongings and stood ready to get off the car in which they had been nearly a whole day.

Clearwell was quite a large place, and the station, where the two different railroad trains came in, was a big one.  There was quite a crowd getting off the train on which the Bunkers had ridden, and more of a crowd on the platform.

“Follow me!” called Daddy Bunker to his wife and children.  “And don’t lose any of your bundles.”

He was carrying Mun Bun, while Mrs. Bunker had Margy in her arms.  Russ, Rose, Laddie and Vi came along behind.

Laddie stopped for a moment to look at some pictures on the magazine covers at the news stand, and then, as he gave a quick glance, and saw the others crossing the platform, and leaving him, he ran on to catch up to them.

He saw a man’s hand dangling among others in the crowd, and in another instant, Laddie had grasped it.  He thought it was his father’s, and he called, above the noise of the crowd: 

“Why don’t the tickets get mad when the conductor punches ’em?”

“Eh?  What’s that?  Tickets?  A conductor?  I’m not the conductor!” a voice exclaimed.  “Who’s this grabbing my hand?”

Laddie looked up.

He had hold of the wrong daddy!

CHAPTER XI

THE FUNNY VOICE

The man whose hand Laddie had taken hold of in the crowd, thinking it was his father’s, looked down at the little fellow and smiled.  And when Laddie saw the smile he felt better.

“What was it you were asking me, little boy?” the man kindly inquired.

“I was—­I was asking you a riddle,” said Laddie.

“What about?” the man wanted to know.

“It was about a conductor punching tickets on the train,” said Laddie.  “But I don’t know the answer.”

“First, what is the question?” the man inquired, still smiling.

“It’s why don’t the tickets get mad when the conductor punches ’em?” Laddie repeated.

“Hum,” mused the man.  “I don’t believe that I know the answer to that riddle.  Did you think I did?”

“Well, I—­I didn’t know,” said Laddie slowly.  “Nobody seems to know the answer to that riddle.  But, you see, I thought you were my father when I took hold of your hand.”

“Oh, you did!” and the man laughed and gave Laddie’s hand a gentle squeeze.  “Well, I thought you were my little boy, for a moment.  But then I happened to think that he is away down in New York City, so, you see, it couldn’t be my little boy.  But are you lost?”

“Oh, no,” answered Laddie.  “That is, I’m not very much lost.  You see, we’re going to my Grandma Bell’s, and we changed cars here.”

“How many of you are going to Grandma Bell’s?” asked the man as he stopped in the crowed and began looking around.