Part 41 (1/2)

Out of the cab the old gentleman stepped. He entered the hall. He was a very fussy old man, and did not want a young child to live in the house with him. He expected, too, that Mrs. Harvey's boy--he had undoubtedly a great contempt for poor young Harvey--would be a miserable, dwindled, wretched sort of creature. But, lo and behold! a little chap with head well thrown back, his eyes bright and lips brave, stepped up to him.

”Here I am, Uncle Stephen. I am Ronald. How do you do?”

”Bless my soul!” said the old man. ”Let me look at you.”

He drew the boy round so as to get the light on his face.

”'Pon my word!” he said, ”you are not the sort of little chap I expected. You're uncommon like your father.”

Ronald flushed with pride. Mr. Harvey came into the parlor and had a little talk with Mrs. Anderson.

”I am indeed indebted to you, madam,” he said. ”This boy is so surprisingly like my nephew that I could almost fancy the years had gone back and I was teaching the little chap to take his first gallop.--Your father was game on a horse, my lad.”

”Yes, sir,” said Ronald, nodding his head. ”'Spect so, sir,” he added.

The old gentleman chucked him under the chin and uttered a laugh.

”Well, boy, we must be going,” he said. ”We mustn't keep your kind friend. You will let me know, madam, for what I am indebted to you.”

”For nothing, sir,” said Mrs. Anderson. A crimson color rushed into her face. ”It has been a labor of love to help this dear little fellow. I could take no money; you mustn't even mention it, sir.”

”Well, madam--well--I respect your proper pride, and anything I can do---- By the way--eh, Ronald?--there's no saying, but I might invite your friend down to the country.--Do you know Somersets.h.i.+re, madam?”

”I used to know it very well when I was a girl. My people lived in Somersets.h.i.+re.”

”Then perhaps you will come and pay us a visit, and see Ronald after he has learned the full use of the saddle and bridle--eh, Ronald?”

”Oh--aunty! Will you come?” said Ronald.

”I will, darling.--I should like it very much indeed, Mr. Harvey; it is most kind of you to ask me.”

”But please--please,” said Ronald, who had suddenly lost all his fear, ”may Connie come, too?”

”Who's Connie?”

”My special friend and sister.”

”Ho, ho!” said the old man. ”I must hear more about her. Can make no rash promises. But all right, little chap; I'll do what I can for you.

Now, if you had taken after---- Well, never mind--I won't say anything to hurt you.”

”And, please,” said Ronald suddenly, ”of course you wouldn't pay my aunty, for the things she did can't be paid for. But poor Mrs.

Cricket--aunty, I know her address. The place in the country is called Eastborough; and it's Ivy Cottage, aunty; and--she was good to me----”

”Yes,” said Mrs. Anderson, ”you'll let me explain, please, Mr. Harvey.

This dear little boy spent a month at Mrs. Cricket's, and she was never paid a penny.”

”She ought to be paid,” said Ronald. ”Course, when father returns he'll pay you back again. But she ought to get it, for there was real new-laid eggs, and the chickens were so tender.”