They set off in high spirits. Every bit of the day was a keen pleasure to them—the train journey, the walk from the station to the old country house belonging to Mr. Allonby's friend, and then the adjournment to the artificial lake in the park, where a large number of skaters were assembled. There were other children there who at once made friends with Bobby and True, and, when luncheon time came, they were asked to come up to the house. This, however, Mr. Allonby declined, and a few others besides themselves preferred to lunch on the banks of the bit of water.
'I like this much the best,' said Bobby, snuggling close to his father; 'it's as hot as fire, isn't it?'
His father looked at his rosy cheeks with content.
'I wish I could give you children an out-of-door country life,' he said; 'that's what you ought to have.'
'Yes,' said True; 'I don't like houses at all. I should like to be a gipsy!'
'When we grows up, father, we'll come over the sea with you, won't we? And couldn't we go to the North Pole and skate? Miss Robsart was telling us yesterday about the poor little fat Eskims—I forgets the name of them—who're in the dark so much. I should like to see them and the whales.'
'I should like the hot places best,' said True, 'where you lie in the sun, and monkeys and parrots swing in the trees above you, and you eat cocoanuts and dates!'
'Yes,' said Mr. Allonby; 'we'll do some travels together later if we're spared. But the North Pole would be a big order, Bobby; it has never been found yet.'
'I espec's God has got hold of it in His hand, and twists the world round with it,' said Bobby with knitted brows.
His father laughed.