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She had found her father and he could see only the candles he sought, and the money in his grasp! She was out in the open with him once more, where she was free to gambol and shout yet he was bound by his harness and heavily laden. "I might just as well be home," she said to Puffy, disheartened. "Wish your father'd let me sharpen his ears," whispered the Man-Who-Makes-Faces.
At that, she began to act most curiously, stepping to the right and pointing a toe, stepping to the left and pointing a toe; setting down one heel, setting down the other; then taking a waltzing turn. "Oh!" said Gwendolyn, understanding. "Well, if that's all you want to do," she said unconcernedly, "why, dance." "Yes, dance," broke in the Man-Who-Makes-Faces, snapping his fingers.
Next, the King's English stepped back until he stood at the right. Between them, hand in hand once more, passed Gwendolyn and the Man-Who-Makes-Faces. The Piper came next. "Call that a' English tongue?" he asked, with an impudent grin at the soldier's shining weapon. "Yes, sir." "Pah!" Now Thomas gave Jane a quick shove forward but a shove which sent her only as far as the Gate.
The Doctor uncovered the pill-basket, selected a fine, round, toasted example of his own baking, and presented it to the Man-Who-Makes-Faces; presented a second to Gwendolyn; thence went from one to another of the little company, whereat everyone fell to eating.
"You'll help me to find my fath-er and moth-er, won't you?" she cried. "Cer-tainly!" "We were starting just as you came," said the Man-Who-Makes-Faces. "Well, let's be off!" His whistle hung by a thin chain from a button-hole of his coat. He swung it to his lips, Toot! Toot! It was a cheery blast. More than once she had longed, and in vain, to stop at one of these show-cases and purchase.
The Man-Who-Makes-Faces made no effort to interpose. But he wagged his head significantly. "It's evident, Miss Jane," said he, "that you've forgotten all about the Piper." She came short. And showed herself upset by what he had said, for she did a hop-schottische. He was not slow to take advantage. "We're sure to see him shortly," he went on.
"Oh, I see." The Man-Who-Makes-Faces spoke with some concern. "Then he's flown?" Gwendolyn, puzzled, glanced from one to the other. "Who is 'he'?" she asked. The Policeman bumped his head against his night-stick. "The Bird!" he mourned. At that, Jane hopped up and down in evident delight. But Gwendolyn fell back, taking up a position beside the little old gentleman. That Bird again!
And he started forward once more. The Man-Who-Makes-Faces, trudging alongside, craned to peer ahead, his grizzled beard sticking straight out in front of him. "Now, let me see," he mused in a puzzled way. "Which route, I wonder, had we better take?" "That depends on where we're going," replied the Policeman, helplessly. "And with the Bird gone, of course I don't know."
"And I ain't been able to get rid of it since. Every single day it's harder to lug around. Because, you see, he's growin'." At that, the Policeman and the Man-Who-Makes-Faces exchanged a glance full of significance. And both shrugged the Policeman with such an emphatic upside-down shrug that his shoulders brushed the ground. Gwendolyn's curiosity emboldened her. "He?" she questioned. "The pig."
Again the Policeman and the Man-Who-Makes-Faces exchanged a significant glance. "You see," went on the Piper, "in the City everybody's in debt. Well, I have to have my money, don't I? So I dunned 'em all good. But maybe er a speck too much. So " "Oh, dear!" breathed Gwendolyn "Of course, I've never been what you might call popular. Who would be if everybody owed him money."
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