"So would I," said Rose. "I love fireworks."

"But you couldn't be a tramp," declared her brother.

"Why not?" Rose wanted to know.

"'Cause you're a girl, and only men and boys are tramps. I could be a
tramp, but you couldn't."

[Illustration: AND THEN THE FIREWORKS BEGAN.

_Six Little Bunker's at Grandma Bell's.--Page_ 58]

And then the fireworks began, and the six little Bunkers thought no more
about tramps, missing papers, or even about the visit to Grandma Bell's
for a time, as they watched the red, green and blue fire, and saw the
sky-rockets, balloons and other pretty things floating in the air.

If the red-haired tramp, or the one for whom Norah had put up the lunch
that evening, came to the fireworks, the six little Bunkers did not see
the ragged men.

They stayed until the last pinwheel had whizzed itself out in streams and
stars of colored fire, until the last sky-rocket had gone hissing upward
toward the clouds, and until the last glow of red fire had died away in
the sky.

"Now we'll go home!" said Mother Bunker. "You tots must be tired. You've
had a full day, for you were up early."