Kent flushed uneasily. Old Tilly's face looked like father's when he said his rare, hearty words of commendation.
"Well, the organ-grinder likes it, too!" Kent laughed. "Now he can have something to eat. Poor old fellow! He couldn't have gone through all those dooryards to save his life! He was 'most sunstruck. I told a motherly old lady about him, at one of the houses, and she's going to be on the lookout for him, and give him a snack of meat and bread."
They went on for half a mile quite silently. Then, without warning. Jot suddenly began to laugh. He tumbled off his bicycle and collapsed in a feeble heap.
"Don't anybody st-op me !" he cried. "It's dangerous! I'm having one o' my 'attacks'!"
The others joined in, and, for a little, the woods rang with boyish mirth.
"It was rich!" stammered Jot. "Passing the hat round capped it!"
"It was great!" laughed Old Tilly. "You're an actor, Kentie!"
"Me! What are you?"
"Well, I can't grind a hand-organ and pass round the hat like that!"
"I could!" Jot cried, suddenly sobering down and going through the motions of turning a crank with airy ease. "It's 'most too easy for me!"