The Bobbsey Twins on Blueberry Island | Page 7

took Mollie!" half-sobbed Helen, "and I--I tried to get her back, but I couldn't run fast enough and--and----"
"Well, if they really have Mollie," went on Mr. Bobbsey, "we must get right after them and----"
"Mollie is the name of Helen's big doll--almost as large as she is," explained Mrs. Porter, who was now smiling through her tears. "Mollie isn't a little girl, though probably there are several in Lakeport named that. But the Mollie whom Helen means is a doll."
"Oh, I see," said Mr. Bobbsey. "But did the gypsies really take your doll, Helen?"
"Yes, they did," answered the little girl. "A bad gypsy man took her away. I was playing with Mollie in Grace Lavine's yard, and Grace and Mary went into the house to get some cookies. I stayed out in the yard with my doll, 'cause I wanted her to get tanned nice and brown. I laid her down in a sunny place, and I went over under a tree to set the tea table, and when I looked around I saw the gypsy man."
"Where was he?" asked Mr. Bobbsey.
"He was just getting out of one of the red wagons. And there was a little gypsy girl in the wagon. She was pointing to my doll, and then the man jumped down off the wagon steps, ran into the yard, picked up my doll, and then he jumped into the wagon again and rode away. And he's got my nice doll Mollie, and I want her back, and--oh, dear!" and Helen began to cry again.
"Never mind," said Mr. Bobbsey quietly. "I'll try to get your doll back again. How large was it?"
"Nearly as large as Helen herself," said Mrs. Porter. "I didn't want her to play with it to-day but she took it."
"Yes, but now the gypsy man with rings in his ears--he took it," explained Helen. "He carried my doll off in his arms."
"Then it must have been the doll which Johnnie saw the gypsy man carrying, and not Helen!" exclaimed Bert. "Did it look like a doll, Johnnie?"
"Well, it might have been. It had light hair like Helen's, though."
"Helen's doll had light hair," said Mrs. Porter. "And probably if a gypsy put the doll under his arm, and ran past any one it would look as though he were carrying off a little girl. Especially as the doll really had on a dress Helen used to wear when she was a baby."
"That is probably what happened," said Mr. Bobbsey. "The gypsy man's little girl saw, from the wagon, the doll lying in the Lavine yard. Gypsies are not as careful about taking what does not belong to them as they might be. They often steal things, I'm afraid. And, seeing the big doll lying under the tree----"
"Where I put her so she'd get tanned nice and brown," interrupted Helen.
"Just so," agreed Mr. Bobbsey. "Seeing the doll under the tree, with no one near, the gypsy man made up his mind to take her for his little girl. This he did, and when he ran off with Mollie, Johnnie saw what happened and thought Helen was being kidnapped.
"But I'm glad that wasn't so, though it's too bad Mollie has been taken away. However, we'll try to get her back for you, Helen. Maybe the gypsies took other things. If they did we'll send the police after them. Now don't cry any more and I'll see what I can do."
"And will you get Mollie back?"
"I'll do my best," promised the Bobbsey twins' father.
There being nothing more he could do just then at the Porter home, Mr. Bobbsey went back to his own family, and told his wife, Flossie, Freddie and Nan what had happened.
"Oh, I'm so glad Helen is all right," said Mrs. Bobbsey.
"But it's too bad about her doll," sighed Nan. She had a doll of her own--a fine one--and she knew how she would feel if that had been taken.
"Helen's doll could talk," said Flossie. "I know, 'cause she let me make it talk one day. You wind up a winder thing in her back, and then you push on a shoe button thing in her front and she says 'Mamma' and 'Papa' and other things."
"Yes, that's right," said Nan. "Mollie is a talking doll. I guess she has a little phonograph inside her. Maybe that's the noise Johnnie heard when the gypsy man carried the doll past him, and Johnnie thought it was Helen crying."
"I guess that was it," agreed Mr. Bobbsey.
"Well, it's too bad to lose a big talking doll. I must see what I can do to help get it back. I'll call up the chief of police."
"It would be worse to lose your toy fire engine," declared Freddie.
"Why, Freddie Bobbsey!" exclaimed his little sister, "nothing could be worse than to lose your very