'HE MAY COME TO-MORROW!'
That very same day in the afternoon Bobby was up in his apple-tree, when, to his consternation, he saw his uncle saunter into the orchard, shake hands with Tom, who was cutting the grass there, and begin an animated conversation with him. Bobby curled himself up well out of sight, and presumed upon his position, for when Mr. Mortimer came down to his corner and stopped for a moment under the tree, the little scamp again said, in as gruff a voice as he could assume:
'Have you seen mine father?'
In one second Mr. Mortimer's great long arm had shot up through the branches, and seized hold of one of Bobby's fat legs.
'Now, my little man, we'll meet each other face to face!'
Terror succeeded Bobby's audacity. He found himself on the ground, but, alas! in his rough descent Nobbles had been dashed from his grasp over the wall upon the high-road, and his anxiety over his darling's fate overcame his terror.
'Oh, save him! Oh, save mine Nobbles! Oh, he'll be hurt, he'll be run away with! Oh, please get Nobbles, and I'll never run away from you nevermore!'
Tears were crowding into his eyes as he spoke.
'Who's Nobbles?' asked the bewildered uncle.
'He's always lived with me for years—everlasting years!' repeated the troubled child. 'I couldn't live without him! Why, a big dog may eat him up, or a motor run over him! Oh, save him quick!'