"No; he didn't really _eat_ them," Flossie explained, anxious to have
everything just right. "He _tried_ to chew 'em, but he didn't like 'em.
Anyhow, my hat's gone!"

"What kind of a hat did you want?" asked the store man, not quite sure how
to treat the children.

"One with feathers on," suggested Freddie.

"No, I want one with flowers on!" insisted Flossie.

"How much did you want to pay?" asked the man, shaking his head in a
puzzled way.

"My father will pay," replied Freddie, "You just send the bill to him--Mr.
Richard Bobbsey, of Lakeport. He has a lumber mill and----"

"What seems to be the trouble?" broke in a new voice, and the two
children, as well as the floorwalker, turned to see standing near them a
stout man, with gray hair, who was smiling kindly at them.

"Oh, Mr. Whipple!" exclaimed the tall man, glad to have some one else to
help him. "I don't know what to do about these children. They want a hat
for the little girl, and----"

"It's because a monkey ate Flossie's hat!" broke in Freddie. "We're lost.
We were on an express train, but we got off and we heard music and please
charge it to our father--charge the hat, I mean, not the music, for we
didn't pay anything for that. Did we Flossie?"