Part 29 (1/2)
”Wilson what?”
”Just Wilson.”
”What does your mother call you?”
”Just Wilson. Sometimes daddy calls me Bill.”
”Oh!”
”What's your name?”
”Call me The Man on the Hill.”
”Do you live on the hill?”
”Yes.”
”Is that your house?”
”Yes.”
”Did you make it?”
”Yes.”
”All yourself?”
”No. Peter helped me.”
”Who's Peter?”
”He is the man who helped me.”
”Oh!”
These credentials exchanged, the boy fell silent, while Grant looked down upon him with a whimsical admixture of humor and tenderness.
Suddenly, without a word, the boy dashed as fast as his legs could carry him to the end of the field, and plunged into a clump of bushes. In a moment he emerged with something brown and chubby in his arms.
”He's my teddy,” he said to Grant. ”He was watching in the bushes to see if you were a nice man.”
”And am I?” Grant was tempted to ask.
”Yes.” There was no evasion about Wilson. He approved of his new acquaintance, and said so.
”Let us give teddy a ride on Prince?”
”Let's!”
Grant carefully arranged teddy on the horse's hames, and the boy clapped his hands with delight.