“Do you?” asked Cap’n Bill doubtfully.  “Then you’re some smarter ner I am, mate.”

“He sailed down with the umbrel!” she cried.  “He used his umbrel as a para—­para—­”

“Shoot,” said Cap’n Bill.  “They’re called parashoots, mate; but why, I can’t say.  Did you drop down in that way, my lad?” he asked the boy.

“Yes,” said Button-Bright.  “That was the way.”

“But how did you get up there?” asked Trot.  “You had to get up in the air before you could drop down, an’—­oh, Cap’n Bill!  He says he’s from Phillydelfy, which is a big city way at the other end of America.”

“Are you?” asked the sailor, surprised.

Button-Bright nodded again.  “I ought to tell you my story,” he said, “and then you’d understand.  But I’m afraid you won’t believe me, and—­” he suddenly broke off and looked toward the white house in the distance “—­Didn’t you say you lived over there?” he inquired.

“Yes,” said Trot.  “Won’t you come home with us?”

“I’d like to,” replied Button-Bright.

“All right, let’s go then,” said the girl, jumping up.

The three walked silently along the path.  The old sailorman had refilled his pipe and lighted it again, and he smoked thoughtfully as he pegged along beside the children.  “Know anyone around here?” he asked Button-Bright.

“No one but you two,” said the boy, following after Trot, with his umbrella tucked carefully underneath his arm.

“And you don’t know us very well,” remarked Cap’n Bill.  “Seems to me you’re pretty young to be travelin’ so far from home an’ among strangers.  But I won’t say anything more till we’ve heard your story.  Then, if you need my advice, or Trot’s advice—­she’s a wise little girl, fer her size, Trot is—­we’ll freely give it an’ be glad to help you.”

“Thank you,” replied Button-Bright.  “I need a lot of things, I’m sure, and p’raps advice is one of ’em.”

THE MAGIC UMBRELLA

CHAPTER 2

When they reached the neat frame cottage which stood on a high bluff a little back from the sea and was covered with pretty green vines, a woman came to the door to meet them.  She seemed motherly and good, and when she saw Button-Bright, she exclaimed, “Goodness me!  Who’s this you’ve got, Trot?”

“It’s a boy I’ve just found,” explained the girl.  “He lives way off in Phillydelphy.”

“Mercy sakes alive!” cried Mrs. Griffith, looking into his upturned face.  “I don’t believe he’s had a bite to eat since he started.  Ain’t you hungry, child?”

“Yes,” said Button-Bright.

“Run, Trot, an’ get two slices o’ bread-an’-butter,” commanded Mrs. Griffith.  “Cut ’em thick, dear, an’ use plenty of butter.”

“Sugar on ’em?” asked Trot, turning to obey.

“No,” said Button-Bright.  “Just bread-an’-butter’s good enough when you’re hungry, and it takes time to spread sugar on.”