“What’s all this?  What’s the matter?” asked a voice on the outside fringe of the crowd that had gathered in front of the Bobbsey home, and, looking up, Bert saw his father coming down the street from the direction of his lumberyard.  “Has anything happened?” asked Mr. Bobbsey, after a glance had shown him that his own little family was safe and sound.

“Dere suah has lots done gone an’ happened, Mistah Bobbsey,” answered fat Dinah.  “Oh, de pore honey lamb!  Jest t’ think ob it!”

“But who is it?  What has happened?” asked Mr. Bobbsey, looking about for some one to answer him.  Flossie and Freddie decided they would do this.

“It’s gypsies,” said the little “fat fireman,” as his father sometimes called Freddie.

“And they carried off Helen Porter,” added the little “fat fairy,” which was Flossie’s pet name.  “An’ I saw the wagons, all lookin’ glasses, an’ Freddie an’ I are goin’ to be gypsies when we grow up.”  Flossie was so excited that she dropped a lot of “g” letters from the ends of words where they belonged.

“You don’t mean to say that the gypsies have carried off Helen Porter ­the little girl who lives next door?” asked Mr. Bobbsey in great surprise.

“Yep!  They did!  I saw ’em!” exclaimed John Marsh.  “She had curly hair, and when the gypsy man tooked her in his arms she cried, Helen did!”

“Oh!” exclaimed Flossie, Freddie and other children in the crowd.

“There must be some mistake,” said Mr. Bobbsey.  “Those gypsies would never take away a child, even in fun, in broad daylight.  It must be a mistake.  Let me hear more about it.”

And while the father of the Bobbsey twins is trying to find out just what had happened, I will take a few minutes to let my readers know something of the twins themselves, for this book is about them.

It may be that some boy or girl is reading this as his or her first venture into the volumes of the “Bobbsey Twins Series.”  If so, I will state that there are a number of books which come before this, though this story is complete in itself.

To begin with there were four Bobbsey twins, as you have guessed before this.  Nan and Bert were about ten years old, tall and dark, with eyes and hair to match.

Flossie and Freddie were short and fat, and had light hair and blue eyes.  So, now that you know them you will have no trouble in telling the twins, one from the other.

With their mother and their father, who owned a large lumberyard, the twins lived in the eastern city of Lakeport near the head of Lake Metoka.  There were others in the family besides the twins and their parents.  There was dear old, black, fat Dinah, the cook, who made such good pies, and there was Sam, her husband.  And I must not forget Snoop, the black cat, nor Snap, the big dog, who once did tricks in a circus.  You will hear more about them later.

“The Bobbsey Twins,” is the name of the first book, and in that you may read of many adventures that befell the children.  They had more adventures in the country, and there is a book telling all about that happy time, and also one about the seashore.

When the Bobbsey twins went to school there was more fun and excitement “than you could shake a stick at,” as Dinah used to say, though why any one would want to shake a stick at fun I can’t tell.  Then came jolly times at “Snow Lodge,” and on a houseboat.  From there the twins went to “Meadow Brook,” and afterward came home, there to have more fun.

The book just before this one you are reading is called “The Bobbsey Twins in a Great City.”  In that you may learn how Bert, Nan, Flossie and Freddie went to New York where Mr. Bobbsey had some business to look after.  While there the twins helped to solve a mystery about a poor old man.  I think, however, that I had better not tell you any more about it, but let you read it for yourself.

And now we find the twins back in Lakeport, ready for a good time during the summer that would soon be at hand.  Only the gypsy scare had rather alarmed every one for the time being.

“But now let me hear what it is all about,” said Mr. Bobbsey, who had come home from the office of his lumberyard to find an excited crowd in front of his house.  “Were there really any gypsies?” he asked his wife.  “And did they take away Helen Porter?”

“I don’t know about that last part,” said Mrs. Bobbsey; “but a caravan of gypsies did pass by the house a little while ago.  I heard Dinah say something about the gaily painted wagons, and I looked out in time to see them rumbling along the street.  Then, a little later, I heard Mrs. Porter calling for Helen, and, on seeing the crowd, I ran out.  I was worried about our children until I saw them coming from the lake, where they had gone for a row in the boat.”

“I can’t believe that gypsies took Helen,” said Mr. Bobbsey.

“Oh, but she’s gone!” several neighbors told him.  “We can’t find her anywhere, and her mother is crying and taking on terribly!”

“Well, it may be that Helen is lost, or has even strayed away after the gypsies, thinking their wagons were part of a circus, as Nan says Flossie thought,” said Mr. Bobbsey.  “But gypsies wouldn’t dare take a little girl away in broad daylight.”

As he said this he looked at his own little children and at others in the crowd, for he did not want them to be frightened.

“Years ago, maybe, gypsies did take little folks,” he said, “but they don’t do it any more, I’m sure.”

“But where is Helen?” asked John Marsh.  “A gypsy man has her, I know, ’cause I saw him take her.”

“Are you sure?” asked Mr. Bobbsey, for John was an excitable boy, sometimes given to imagining things that never happened.

“Course I’m sure,” he said.  “Cross my heart!” and he did so, while the other children looked on wonderingly.

“Suppose you go over to Mrs. Porter’s house,” said Mrs. Bobbsey to the children’s father.  “She’s worried, I guess, and her husband isn’t home yet.  Maybe you can help her.  I was just going in when you came along.”

“All right, I’ll go,” said Mr. Bobbsey.

“Can’t we come?” asked Freddie, and as he had hold of his little sister’s hand, it was Flossie, of course, whom he included in his question.

“No, you must go with your mother,” said his father, and when the little fat fireman seemed disappointed Mr. Bobbsey went on:  “I guess supper is almost ready, isn’t it, Dinah?”

“Deed it am.  An’ dere’s puddin’ wif shaved-up maple sugar scattered ober de top an’ ­”

“Oh, I want some of that!” cried Flossie.  “Come on, Freddie!  We can look for the gypsies after supper.”

“And we’ll get Helen out of the shiny wagons,” added Freddie, as he hurried toward the Bobbsey home with Flossie, fat Dinah waddling along after them.

“I’ll go with you,” offered Bert to his father.  “Maybe you would want me to go on an errand.”

“Yes, take Bert with you,” said Mrs. Bobbsey.  “I’ll look after Nan, Flossie and Freddie.  And be sure to tell Mrs. Porter that if I can do anything for her I will.”

“I’ll tell her,” and then Mr. Bobbsey, with Bert, walked to the Porter house next door.

The crowd in the street grew larger, and there was much talk about the gypsies.  Some said that several little boys and girls had been carried off, but, of course, this was not so.

As Flossie and Freddie tore on toward the house in front of fat Dinah, they continued to chatter about the gypsies.

“If gypsies take little girls we don’t want to be them ­the gypsies, I mean ­Freddie.”

“Humph-umph; that’s so.  Well, I guess we’ll be in a circus anyhow.  That’ll be more fun.  You can ride a horse in the ring, and sometimes I can ride with you and sometimes I can be a clown.  When I’m a clown I can squirt water from my fire engine over the other clowns.  That’ll make the folks holler and laugh.”

When Nan and Mrs. Bobbsey reached the house each of the little twins was munching on a piece of maple sugar, given them by Dinah to keep them from nibbling at the pudding before the time to serve it came.

“My, Momsie! aren’t you glad the gypsies came and got Helen Porter?  It gives us something to think about,” remarked Freddie coolly.

“Freddie Bobbsey!” gasped his mother.  “No, I am not glad the gypsies got Helen ­if they did.  And you and Flossie find enough to think about, as it is.  And give the rest of us enough to think about, what is more.”

“There go daddy and Bert into Mrs. Porter’s house now,” said Nan.

“Now tell me just what happened, and I’ll do all I can to help you,” said Mr. Bobbsey to Mrs. Porter, when he got to her house and found her half crying in the sitting-room where there were a number of other women.

“Oh, Helen is gone, I’m sure she is!” cried the mother.  “The gypsies have taken her!  I’ll never see her again!”

“Oh, yes you will,” said Mr. Bobbsey in mild tones.  “I’m sure it’s all a mistake.  The gypsies haven’t taken her at all.  What makes you think so?”

“Johnnie Marsh saw them carry her away.”

“Then let’s have Johnnie in here where we can talk to him.  Bert, suppose you do one of those errands you spoke of,” said his father with a smile, “and bring Johnnie in out of the crowd where I can talk to him quietly.”

John, or Johnnie, as he was often called, was very ready to come when Bert found him outside the Porter house, telling over and over again to a crowd of boys what he had seen, or what he thought he had seen.

“Now tell us just what happened,” said Mr. Bobbsey, when the small boy was seated in a chair in the Porter parlor.

“Well, I was coming from the store for my mother,” said Johnnie, “and I saw the gypsy wagons.  I thought it was a circus.”

“That’s what Flossie and Freddie thought,” said Bert to his father.

“But it wasn’t,” went on Johnnie.  “Then I saw Helen playing in Grace Lavine’s yard down the street when I came past.  And a little while after that, when I had to go to the store for my mother again, ’cause I forgot a yeast cake, I saw a gypsy man running along the street and he had Helen in his arms and she was crying.”

“What made you think it was Helen?” asked Mr. Bobbsey.

“’Cause I saw her light hair.  Helen’s got fluffy hair like your Flossie’s.”

“Yes, I know she has,” said Mr. Bobbsey.  “What did you do when you thought you saw the gypsy man carrying Helen away?” and they all waited anxiously for Johnnie’s answer.

“I ran home,” said Johnnie.  “I didn’t want to be carried off in one of those looking-glass wagons.”

“Quite right,” said Mr. Bobbsey.  “Then you really didn’t see the gypsy man pick Helen up in his arms?”

“No,” slowly answered the little boy, “he only just ran past me.  But he must have picked her up in Grace’s yard, for that’s where Helen was playing.”

“Then we’d better go down to where Grace Lavine lives and see what she can tell us,” said Mr. Bobbsey.

“You don’t need to,” put in Bert.  “I see Grace out in front now with some other girls.  Shall I call her in?”

“Oh, please do!” exclaimed Mrs. Porter.  “My poor Helen!  Oh, what has happened to her?”

“We’ll get your little girl back, even if the gypsies have her,” said Mr. Bobbsey.  “But I don’t believe they have taken her away.  Call in Grace, Bert.”

Grace was not as excited as Johnnie, and told what she knew.

“Helen and Mary Benson and I were playing in my yard,” said Grace.  “We had our dolls and were having a tea party.  Mary and I went into the house to get some sugar cookies, to play they were strawberry shortcake, and we left Helen out under the trees with her doll.  When we came back she wasn’t there, nor her doll either, and down the street we saw the gypsy wagons.”

“Did you see any gypsy man come into the yard and get Helen?” asked Mr. Bobbsey.

“No,” said Grace, shaking her head, “I didn’t.  But the gypsies must have taken her, ’cause she was gone.”

“Oh, please some one go after the gypsies, and make a search among them, at any rate!” cried Mrs. Porter.

“We’ll get right after them,” said Mr. Bobbsey.  “I don’t really believe the gypsies took Helen, but they may have seen her.  They can’t have gone on very far.  I’ll call some policemen and we’ll get after them.”

“I’ll come with you,” said Bert.  “Maybe we’d better get an automobile.”

“It would be a good idea,” said his father.  “Let me see now.  I think ­”

But before Mr. Bobbsey could say what he thought there was the sound of shouts in the street, and when those in the Porter home rushed to the windows and doors they were surprised to see, coming up the front walk, the missing little girl herself!

There was Helen Porter, not carried off by the gypsies at all, but safe at home; though something had happened, that was sure, for she was crying.

“Here she is!  Here she is!” cried several in the crowd, and Mrs. Porter rushed out to hug her little girl close in her arms.