'Oh, that's only your make up!' said True, a little scornfully. 'You can't read long words at all; you know you can't. But, dad, you won't send us to school, will you—not away from you?'
'I'm afraid I must.'
Bobby's look of horror made his father smile. He lifted him upon his knee.
'Every boy goes to school, Bobby. You don't want to be a baby always, do you?'
'Mother said,' asserted Bobby gravely, 'that I was to be your little kerpanion; she didn't want me never to leave you.'
'You're a first-rate little companion, sonny. I shall miss you very much; but I must think of your good first. There don't seem to be any nice schools near here, nor do I know of anyone who would come and teach you for an hour or two. And I can't afford to live on here. I must go to London, I think, and set to work at something. I heard to-day from an old friend of mine who wants me to join another exploring party. Perhaps I may do this. In any case I fear our little home will be broken up.'
Bobby looked up into his father's face with a quivering under lip.
'Are you going to send me back to grandmother? I've had such a tiny, weeny time with you. I reely don't think I'll live away from you, father, again. I couldn't expeck and expeck every day for you to come back to me, and then have you never come. And I'll promise true and faithful to be good if you'll take me with you.'
'And I promised mother faithful I'd have a comf'able home for you always, dad. She told me I was to. I don't think she'd like it at all if we was sent away from you.'
Mr. Allonby looked at the eager children's faces thoughtfully.