"Balloon, young sir?" said she to Pip, in a cracked old voice.

"No thanks,'' said Pip. But Bets pulled his arm.

"Oh, do buy me one, Pip. Oh, I wish Fatty was here. He'd buy me one. They're so pretty!"

"Well, but they're sixpence each!" said Pip, looking at the price label hanging from the string of balloons. "Sixpence! It's robbery. No, I can't lend you sixpence for that. Mother would think I was mad."

"She can have one for half-price," croaked the old woman kindly. Bets looked at Pip.

"Oh, all right," he said, and pulled out three pennies. "But mind you give me the money back when you get home, Bets."

"Oh thank you, Pip," said Bets, and took the money. She looked at all the gay balloons, swaying gently in the breeze, and couldn't make up her mind which one to buy. The reds were so nice and bright, the greens were so pretty, the blues were like the sky, the yellows were like sunshine—oh, which should she have?

"Well, come on after us when you've made up your mind," said Pip impatiently. "We're not going to stand here all evening waiting for you, Bets."

The others went off to the river-bank. Bets stared at the lovely balloons.

"Pretty, aren't they, young miss?" said the old woman. "You take your time in choosing. I don't mind!"

Bets thought what a kind old woman she was. "It was so nice of you to let me have one at half-price," she said. "Really it was. Do you make a lot of money, selling balloons?"

"Not much," said the old dame. "But enough for an old lady like me."

Bets chose a blue balloon and the old woman held out her hand for the money. It was a very dirty hand, and it closed over the money quickly. Bets wondered why all the Fair people had such dirty hands and faces.

Then she noticed something that made her stare. The old woman's hand was certainly extremely dirty—but the nails on it were remarkably clean! Much cleaner than Bets' own nails!

"How queer!" thought Bets, still staring at the clean, well-kept nails. "Why should this old woman keep her nails so clean, and her hands so dirty?"

Bets then looked hard at the old woman's dirty brown face, all wrinkled up. She looked into the surprisingly bright, twinkling eyes—and she saw that they were Fatty's eyes! Yes, there wasn't an atom of doubt about it—they were Fatty's own bright, intelligent eyes!"

"Oh, Fatty!" whispered Bets. "Oh, it really is you, isn't it? Oh, do say it is?"

The old woman looked round quickly to make sure no one was listening.

"Yes. It's me all right," said Fatty, unwrinkling his face as if by magic, and straightening his bent back. "Jolly good disguise, isn't it? But HOW did you know it was me, Bets? You're too cute for anything!”

"Sh! There's somebody coming," whispered Bets. I’ll go. Where will you meet us?"

"Go home at six and I'll meet you somewhere," said Fatty hurriedly, and screwed his face up into all kinds of wrinkles again. Bets saw that he had cleverly painted the places where the wrinkles came, so that no one could possibly see that they were not always there. Fatty was simply marvellous!

"Don't tell the others!" said Fatty. "Keep it dark for a bit." Then he raised his voice and, in a feeble croak, called "Balloons! Sixpence each! Fine strong balloons!"

Bets went off, her eyes shining. She had found Fatty—and oh, wasn't he clever! He really, really was.

The Old Balloon-Woman.

Bets went to join the others, very pleased with herself. Her blue balloon floated behind her, tugging at its string.

"Here she is at last!" said Pip. "We thought you were never coming, Bets. What's up with you? You look bursting with something."

"Do I?" said Bets. "Fancy that! By the way, I've a message from Fatty. We're to go home at six and he will meet us somewhere."

"Who gave you that message?" said Pip, at once.

"That's my secret," said Bets annoyingly.

"Did you speak to Fatty himself?" demanded Larry. "Is he the Hoopla-man?"

"I shan't tell you," said Bets. "I'm going to keep my secret for a bit!"

And she wouldn't say another word, which annoyed the others very much. Fancy young Bets knowing something they didn't know!

At six o'clock they made their way back through the Fair, across the level-crossing, and up the lane from the river. Sitting on a bench, with her balloons, was the old Balloon-woman, waiting for them. She got up as they came.

"Balloons!" said she. "Strong balloons!"

"No thanks," said Pip, and walked on. The old woman walked with him. "Buy a balloon!" she said, "Just to help me, young sir!"

"No thanks," said Pip again, and walked a little faster. But the old dame could walk surprisingly fast too. She kept up quite easily with Pip!

"Do buy a balloon!” she said, her voice cracking queerly.

How long she would have pestered Pip nobody knew—but Bets suddenly exploded into a series of helpless giggles that took the others by surprise. They stared at her.

"What is the matter?" said Pip, exasperated.

"Oh dear!" gasped Bets. "Oh dear—I'm sorry. But I can't help it. It's all so f-M-funny!"

"What's funny?" shouted Pip. And then he stared—for the old Balloon-woman, pulling her skirts above her knees, and showing sand-shoes and bare legs, was doing a lively jig in front of him and round him, making peculiar noises all the time.

"Don't, Fatty, don't! I shall die of laughter!" said Bets, holding her aching sides.

The others stared as if their eyes were about to fall out. "What—it's Fatty!" said Pip. "Fatty! It isn't. I can't believe it!”

But it was, of course. As soon as Fatty "unscrewed" his face, as Bets called it, and got rid of his lines and wrinkles, every one could see quite well it was Fatty.

Larry and Daisy were speechless. So Fatty hadn't been the Hoopla-man, or the Roundabout-man either. He was the old Balloon-woman instead. Trust Fatty to think out a disguise that nobody would guess!

Or had little Bets guessed it? The others looked at her smiling face. Larry dragged the Balloon-woman to a wayside seat, and they all sat down.

"Is it really you, Fatty?" said Larry. The old woman nodded.

"Of course! Golly, this disguise must be super if I could take you all in as well as that!”

"Did Bets guess? " demanded Pip.

"She did," said Fatty. "She suddenly guessed when she was buying her balloon, and you had all gone off without her."

"But how did she guess?" said Pip, annoyed.

"Goodness knows!” said Fatty. "How did you guess, young Bets?"

"Oh, Fatty—it was such a silly thing—I don't really like to tell you," said Bets. "I'm sure you'll think it was a silly way to guess."

"Go on—tell me," said Fatty, with much interest.

"Well, Fatty—you see, you had very dirty hands, like all the rest of the Fair people," said Bets. "But I couldn't help seeing that you had nice, clean nails—and it did seem to me a bit funny that somebody with dirty hands should bother to keep their nails so clean."

"Well, I'm blessed!" said Fatty, looking down at his dirty hands, and examining the well-kept nails. "Who would have thought of any one noticing that? Very very careless of me not to get some dirt into my nails when I made my hands filthy. I never thought of it. Bets, you are very clever. Most intelligent."

"Oh, Fatty—not really," said Bets, glowing all over her face at such generous praise.

"Well, I must say I think it was jolly cute of young Bets to notice a thing like that," said Larry. "I really do. We all had a chance of noticing, because we all stood in front of you. But it was Bets who spotted it. Jolly good, Bets!"

"She wins my second-best propelling-pencil," said Fatty. "I'll give it to you when I get home, Bets. In fact I'm not sure that I oughtn't to give you my best one. That was a really smart bit of work. Bright enough for a first-class detective!”