“Now we’ll go to the Woolworth Building,” said Mr. Bobbsey to Freddie and Bert, as they went out on Broadway.  “I think mother and the girls will be there waiting for us, as I stayed talking business longer than I meant to.”

And, surely enough, Mrs. Bobbsey, Nan, and Flossie were waiting in the lobby of the big Woolworth Building when Mr. Bobbsey came up with the two boys.  This building is the tallest one in the world used for business, and from the top of the golden tower one can look for miles and miles, across New York Bay, up toward the Bronx, over to Brooklyn and can see towns in New Jersey.

“We’ll go up in the tower and have a view,” said Mr. Bobbsey, “and then we’ll get lunch and go to the Bronx, where the animals are.”

They entered one of the many elevators, with a number of other persons who also wanted to go to the Woolworth tower, and, in a moment, the sliding doors were closed.

“Oh!” suddenly exclaimed Nan.

And Flossie, Freddie and Bert all said the same thing, while Mrs. Bobbsey clasped her husband’s arm and looked rather queer.

“What’s the matter?” asked her husband.

“Why, we’re going up so fast!” exclaimed the children’s mother.  “It makes me feel queer!”

“This is an express elevator,” said Mr. Bobbsey.  “There are so many floors in this tall building that if an elevator went slowly, and stopped at each one, it would take too long to get to the top.  So they have some express elevators, that start at the bottom floor, and don’t stop until they get to floor thirty, or some such number as that.”

“Are there thirty floors to this building?” asked Bert, as the elevator car, like a big cage in a tunnel standing on end, rushed up.

“Yes, and more,” his father answered.

“I like to ride fast,” said Freddie, “I wish we had an elevator like this at home.”

They had to take another, and smaller elevator, that did not go so fast, to get to the very top of the tower, and from there the view was so wonderful that it almost took away the breath of the Bobbsey twins.

“My, this is high up!” exclaimed Bert, as he looked over the edge of the railing, and down at the people in the streets below, who seemed like ants crawling around.

“Well, I guess we’d better be going now,” said Mr. Bobbsey, after a bit.  “Come, children!  Nan—­Bert—­Flossie—­Why, where is Freddie?” he asked, looking around.

“Isn’t he here?” cried Mrs. Bobbsey, her face turning white.

“I don’t see him,” went on Mr. Bobbsey.  “He must have gone inside.”  But Freddie was not there, nor was he anywhere on the outside platform that surrounded the topmost peak of the tall building.

“Oh, where is he?  What has happened to Freddie?” cried his mother.  “If he has fallen!  Freddie!”

CHAPTER IX

WASHINGTON AT LAST