Part 1 (2/2)

He paused in his play and stared hard at Dot for a moment; then dropped his eyes bashfully and ran his fingers through the white pebbles in an embarra.s.sed way.

”Who are you?” asked the girl, in the calm, matter-of-fact tone peculiar to children, while she continued to regard the boy with the interest of a discoverer.

”Tot,” was the low reply.

”Tot who?” she demanded.

”Tot Tompum,” murmured the boy.

”Tompum! That doesn't mean anything,” said Dot, decidedly.

This positive statement seemed to annoy the little fellow. He raised his eyes half shyly a moment and said, in a louder voice:

”Papa Tompum cuts the gra.s.s, an' makes the flowers grow. I'm Tot Tompum.”

”Oh,” said Dot; ”you must mean Thompson. Thompson's the gardener, I know, and gardeners make the flowers grow and cut the gra.s.s.”

The boy nodded his head twice as if to say she was right.

”Gard'ner,” he repeated. ”Papa Tompum. I'm Tot Tompum.”

Then he took courage to look up again, and seeing a friendly smile upon Dot's face he asked boldly, ”Who is you?”

”Oh, I'm Dot,” she answered, sitting down beside him. ”My whole name is Dot Freeland.”

”Dot F'eelan',” said Tot.

”Freeland,” corrected Dot.

”F'eelan',” said Tot.

”Never mind,” laughed the girl; ”let us play together. What were you doing with the pebbles?”

”Jack-stones,” said the boy, and gravely picking out five of the white pebbles, nearly of one size, he tossed them into the air and tried to catch them on the back of his hand. Two tumbled off, and Dot laughed. The boy laughed, too, and tried it again. Before long they had become fast friends, and were laughing and chatting together as happily as if they had known one another for months.

Tot's mother, hearing their voices, came to the door of her cottage; but seeing her boy's new playmate was ”the young lady at the mansion,” she smiled and returned to her work.

Presently Dot jumped up.

”Come, Tot,” she cried, ”let us go where your father is working. I saw him weeding one of the flower beds this morning.”

Tot scrambled to his feet and poured the white pebbles from his hat, after which he placed it upon the back of his head; so far back, indeed, that Dot wondered why it did not tumble off.

”We'll go see Papa Tompum,” he said, trotting along beside his new friend.

Thompson, the gardener, was quite surprised to see his little boy holding fast to the hand of the rich banker's daughter, and chatting away as frankly as if he had known her for years; but Thompson had learned by this time that Dot ruled everyone about the place and did exactly as she pleased, so he made no protest. As he watched the children running about the grounds where Tot was usually forbidden to play, Thompson felt proud that his boy had been selected by ”the young lady” for so high and honorable a position as her playmate.

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