“That’s ’cause you’re kind to them,” said Flossie.  “Come on now, Snoop, you must go back into your basket until we get home.”

“And don’t run away again, either, Snap!” said Bert to the dog, shaking a finger at him.  Snap seemed to understand and to be a bit sorry for what he had done.  He drooped his tail, and when a dog does that he is either ashamed or afraid.

“Oh, don’t be cross with him,” begged Nan, who had come along now, after having helped her mother get Dinah to her feet.  “Don’t make him feel bad, Bert, after we’ve had such a nice time in the country.”

“All right, I won’t,” laughed Bert.  “It’s all right, old fellow,” he said to Snap.  “I guess you didn’t mean it.”

This time Snap wagged his tail, which showed that he felt much happier.

“Let me take Snoop,” begged Flossie of Tommy, and the “fresh air boy,” as the twins called him, handed over the black cat.  They all walked back to where Dinah and Mrs. Bobbsey were waiting.  Snoop was put in her basket, where she curled up as if glad to be away from the noise and excitement.

The fresh air children had gone their various ways and Tommy set off down the street toward his poor home, which, as he had said, was down near the “dumps.”

“Wait a minute!” called Mr. Bobbsey after him.  “Give me your address, Tommy.  Mrs. Bobbsey wants to come and see your grandmother.”

“Oh!” exclaimed Tommy, and he seemed rather surprised.  “Well, I live on Lombard Street.”

“What number?” asked Mr. Bobbsey, taking out a note book and pencil.

“There isn’t any number on our house,” said Tommy.  “Maybe there was once, but it’s gone now.  But it’s the last house on the street, the left hand side as you go toward the dumps.”

“All right,” said Mr. Bobbsey.  “I guess we can find you.  But that’s a long way to walk from here.  Aren’t you going to take a car?”

“No—­no, sir,” answered Tommy.  “I don’t mind walking.”

“Maybe he hasn’t the car fare,” whispered Mrs. Bobbsey.

“Just what I was thinking myself,” answered her husband.  “Here, Tommy,” he went on.  “Here’s a quarter.  Use it to ride home, and get yourself an ice cream soda.  It’s warmer here than out on the fresh air farm,” and he held out the money.  “The ice cream will cool you off.”

“Oh, I—­I don’t want to take it,” said Tommy.  “I don’t mind the walk.”

“Come on, take it!” insisted Mr. Bobbsey.  “You can run some errands for me later on, and earn it, if you like that better.”

“Yes, I’ll do that,” said Tommy, and this time he took the money.  “I’ll run errands for you whenever you want me to,” he added, as he started toward the street car.

“All right,” said Mr. Bobbsey with a laugh.  “And tell your grandmother that we will get her more sewing to do.”

“She’ll be glad to hear that,” Tommy said.  He was quite a little man, though no older than Bert.