“No, of course not,” said Trot.

“I bought some buns and milk with my ten cents, and then I walked around the streets of Chicago for a time and afterward slept on a bench in one of the parks.  In the morning I tried to get the umbrella to give me a magic breakfast, but it won’t do anything but fly.  I went to a house and asked a woman for something to eat, and she gave me all I wanted and advised me to go straight home before my mother worried about me.  She didn’t know I lived in Philadelphia.  That was this morning.”

“This mornin’!” exclaimed Cap’n Bill.  “Why, lad, it takes three or four days for the railroad trains to get to this coast from Chicago.”

“I know,” replied Button-Bright.  “But I didn’t come on a railroad train.  This umbrella goes faster than any train ever did.  This morning I flew from Chicago to Denver, but no one there would give me any lunch.  A policeman said he’d put me in jail if he caught me begging, so I got away and told the umbrella to take me to the Pacific Ocean.  When I stopped I landed over there by the big rock.  I shut up the umbrella and saw a girl sitting on the rock, so I went up and spoke to her.  That’s all.”

“Goodness me!” said Trot.  “If that isn’t a fairy story, I never heard one.”

“It is a fairy story,” agreed Button-Bright.  “Anyhow, it’s a magic story, and the funny part of it is, it’s true.  I hope you believe me, but I don’t know as I’d believe it myself if it hadn’t been me that it happened to.”

“I believe ev’ry word of it!” declared Trot earnestly.

“As fer me,” said Cap’n Bill slowly, “I’m goin’ to believe it, too, by’m’by, when I’ve seen the umbrel fly once.”

“You’ll see me fly away with it,” asserted the boy.  “But at present it’s pretty late in the day, and Philadelphia is a good way off.  Do you s’pose, Trot, your mother would let me stay here all night?”

“Course she would!” answered Trot.  “We’ve got an extra room with a nice bed in it, and we’d love to have you stay just as long as you want to, wouldn’t we, Cap’n Bill?”

“Right you are, mate,” replied the old man, nodding his bald head.  “Whether the umbrel is magic or not, Butt’n-Bright is welcome.”

Mrs. Griffith came out soon after and seconded the invitation, so the boy felt quite at home in the little cottage.  It was not long before supper was on the table and in spite of all the bread-and-butter he had eaten Button-Bright had a fine appetite for the good things Trot’s mother had cooked.  Mrs. Griffith was very kind to the children, but not quite so agreeable toward poor Cap’n Bill.  When the old sailorman at one time spilled some tea on the tablecloth, Trot’s mother flew angry and gave the culprit such a tongue-lashing that Button-Bright was sorry for him.  But Cap’n Bill was meek and made no reply.  “He’s used to it, you know,” whispered Trot to her new friend, and indeed, Cap’n Bill took it all cheerfully and never minded a bit.