Part 11 (1/2)

”Then I'll go with you,” announced Roger, picking up his bread and b.u.t.ter, and taking a firm hold on Lydia's dress.

”You stay here with me, sonny,” said Mr. Jolly, nodding and winking in a friendly way, ”and long about evening when I get my work done I'll take you up to Robin Hill. You heard the little girl tell it's a good place to be.”

”No, I'll go home with her,” said Roger, his mind quite fixed. ”I like her. I want to live with her.” And he held tighter than ever to Lydia.

Mr. Jolly and the little girl looked at one another a moment in silence.

Neither knew quite what to do or say. At last Lydia spoke.

”If you let him go home with me, I'll tell Father all about it, and he will fix it for us somehow. I know he will.”

”Maybe you're right,” said Mr. Jolly, after a pause. ”Mr. Blake's a good man. You tell him if there's any trouble with Farmer Yetter that I'll take the blame. And I'll step round to-night and see what he says.”

Lydia and Roger started off together, and it was not until they were nearly home that Lydia thought of her shoes. She had completely forgotten them, and so had Mr. Jolly.

But once in sight of home, Lydia spied Father on the little front porch, watching up the road for her. So, taking a fresh hold on the little boy's hand, she hurried forward, forgetting everything in her eagerness to tell Roger's story.

CHAPTER X-Robin Hill

Mr. Blake came down the road to meet them, and in his hand he carried Lydia's little traveling-bag.

”I'm going away,” thought Lydia. ”Where am I going? And what will become of Roger?”

As Mr. Blake drew nearer he smiled and waved the bag in the air.

”You are going visiting, Lydia,” he called cheerfully. ”But who is your new little friend?”

”Oh, Father, it's Roger,” answered Lydia, forgetting her own affairs in her interest in the little boy who stood peeping shyly over her shoulder. ”He wanted so to come with me, and Mr. Jolly didn't know what to do, so I said you would fix it. And Mr. Jolly will come and see you to-night, and I was to tell you all about it.”

Mr. Blake sat down on the stone wall at the side of the road, and listened to the tale Lydia had to tell.

”Let me see your arm, son,” said he gently, when Lydia had finished. ”So that is where the big boy pinched you, is it? Have you any more places like that?”

Roger nodded, and put his hand on his side and his back.

”He hit me with the harness,” said he, with trembling lip. ”I want to stay with her. I won't go back.” And Roger smeared away his tears with the back of a grimy little hand, while with the other he clutched his new friend Lydia.

”No, of course you won't go back, son,” answered Mr. Blake, pursing up his lips as if to whistle. ”We can do better by you than that. My little girl is going up to Robin Hill to make a visit, and you shall go along with her. Miss Martin will simply have two visitors instead of one.” And Mr. Blake smiled down into the serious little faces looking up into his.

”Mother's head is worse, Lydia,” he explained, ”and Dr. Wolfe isn't sure what the trouble is. So you are to make a little visit at Robin Hill, and I will telephone every day, and come to see you when I can.”

”But won't Mother want me to wait on her?” asked Lydia anxiously. ”Is she very sick?”

”I hope not,” answered Father, in such a cheerful voice that Lydia felt better immediately. ”Don't fret. You will probably be home in a few days, and you know you will want to stay, anyway, until Roger feels at home. Here comes Alexander; he will take you up. And I packed your bag myself, Lydia. I think I put everything in. I know I packed your favorite brown slippers, and Lucy Locket is on top of everything.”

Mr. Blake was lifting the children into the cart as he spoke. He talked in a low voice to Alexander, and then with a kiss to Lydia, and a pat upon Roger's black pate, he started back to the house, and off they drove.

”They are my 'brown bettys'!” cried Lydia after him. ”Tell Mother I'll wear them only on Sunday.”