Then the Little Man must have done something very strange and wonderful and marvelous; though no one saw him, and so no one knows just what that something was. But when in the morning Carlo awoke with a start, a baby in a pink dress stood in the arbor holding out a little hand in which was a silver dime, and he was saying,-- “Please, Boy, give me a _green_ balloon!” Carlo jumped up and reached for the stick, which was propped between the bars of the seat beside him. And what do you think? The bunch of purple and red and green grapes seemed to have grown and grown, and swelled and swelled, until each grape had turned into a beautiful big balloon of the same color! And that is why on that particular day Carlo had some green balloons in his bunch, although the children had never seen any like them before. And he sold one to the pink baby, and others to the other babies who came crowding around when he went out upon the Avenue, until the green balloons were all gone. For of course the babies wanted the unusual kind first. But after that he sold off the ordinary blue and red ones, and went home with his pockets full of dimes, and with nothing more on the end of his stick than when the bad boys let loose his bunch of balloons. But now there were no tears in his eyes--no, indeed! Now I do not know just what happened next. But Carlo always looks smiling and happy about something. The children buy his balloons every day, and every night he carries home a pocketful of silver. Carlo is growing rich. And now little Nita has come across the sea to be with him. When the cold weather comes I daresay the Little Man will go to live in their house, as he did in their old home in the land where people still believe in fairies. But you may be sure that as long as he can he will stay in the pretty grape-vine arbor. If you are one of the wise children who believe in him, perhaps you will see him there yourself, some day. At any rate, whether you believe in the Little Man or not, if you go at the right time you will be sure to see the Balloon Boy, sitting on the bench and smiling happily at something, with the bunch of red and blue balloons bobbing over his head. And if you pay ten cents you may have a balloon all for your own, which will tug and tug and will try to get away, just as little Johnny Parker’s did. BALLOONS Where do they go, I want to know, The little balloons which fly, and fly, Over the trees and up so high Into the sky? Do they sail as far as Heaven’s gate, Where chubby cherubs watch and wait, Who stretch out their hands with an eager cry As the little balloons come floating by? Do the cherubs play with the pretty things, Flitting about on their baby wings, While the little balloons bob to and fro, Just as they did in the world below?