Mr. Allonby gazed at his little son with a comical look of dismay. Then he put him down from his knees and took a few quick turns up and down the room. At last he turned to the little girl, who was staring at Bobby in silence.
'I want your mother's advice, True; she says I am always making blunders. I think I'll send a note back to Bobby's grandmother, and instead of staying here the night we'll motor straight back to mother and ask her what we had better do. We'll take Bobby with us. I don't know whether that will be right though. I'm afraid you ought to go back, little chap.'
Mr. Allonby looked very much worried. Bobby shook his head emphatically.
'Me and Nobbles couldn't never go back. We belongs to you.'
'Oh, bring him to mother, dad. She'll love him; he looks so lovely. And isn't he very like that little boy who got nearly tossed with a bull yesterday?'
'He's the same; that's the extraordinary thing. Yes, I'll send the note, and we'll take him along to mother. His grandmother can send for him from there if she wants him.'
Mr. Allonby walked to a writing-table and began to write a letter in furious haste.
True put out her little fingers and stroked Bobby's velvet sleeve.
'What a nice coat you've got on!'
Boy-like, Bobby did not think much of his clothes.