Roland hesitated, but when Olive with sparkling eyes ran in at the open door, he followed, saying,—
'We always like to pay visits, so if you're a good and nice man we'll come in. Mother only likes us to talk to very nice people; but I s'pose every one in England is nice, because they're white, and it's only the blacks that don't know better.'
The old man laughed, and his quaint, old-fashioned room, with a cheery fire and bright coloured prints round the walls, delighted his little guests.
'What are those ugly pots in your window without any flowers?' asked Roland presently.
Old Bob gave a little sigh and a smile.
'Ah, you've hit upon my greatest treasures,' he said. 'You won't call them ugly pots when Easter comes.'
'What is Easter?' asked both the children.
'The happiest time in the whole year to me,' said Bob, shaking his head; 'but another day I'll tell you the tale of those pots—not to-day.'