thinking about it for several seconds. "If I can't buy a ship, and if you can't get one for me, Dorothy, I know what I can do."
"What?" she asked.
"I can make one. My papa has lots of boards in his lumber yard. I'll go down there and make a ship for Tommy and me."
The next day Freddie asked his mother if he might not go down to his father's yard. As the way was safe, and as he had often gone before, Mrs. Bobbsey said he might go this time. Off trudged Freddie, with some nails in one pocket and pieces of string in another.
"I can use a stone for a hammer," he said, "and nail some boards together to make a ship. That's what I'll do."
Freddie first went to his father's office, which he always did, so Mr. Bobbsey would know his son was at the yard. This time it happened that Mr. Bobbsey was very busy. He looked at Freddie for a moment, and then said:
"Now Freddie, do you see where James is sitting by that pile of shingles?" and he pointed across the yard.
"Yes, I see," Freddie answered. He knew
