"But," urged Mr. Sheldrake somewhat coarsely, "I am told you were burnt right out, and hadn't time to save a stick."
"You were told right; we did not save a stick."
"Then you want a friend," persisted Mr. Sheldrake.
"We did," said Old Wheels, "and one came--the best of friends."
Burning to know who this best of friends was, Mr. Sheldrake put the question direct, which Old Wheels parried by saying,
"I don't think he would like us to speak of it, and I shall please him, I believe, by not mentioning his name."
There were in the room only the old man and Lily and Pollypod, and not one of these enlightened Mr. Sheldrake. When the old man spoke of this best of friends, Pollypod chimed in with enthusiastic declarations, and said, in her childlike way, that he was so good, so good!
"He seems to be a favourite with all of you," observed Mr. Sheldrake.
"He is a wizard," said Pollypod from her corner; "a good wizard. Father says he's a trump, and mother loves him. So do I, dearly, dearly. So does Mr. Wheels. So does Lily--don't you, Lily?"
Mr. Sheldrake turned suddenly and sharply upon Lily. A deep rose-tint had stolen into her face, and, for contrast, a dark cloud overshadowed Mr. Sheldrake's. Not a motion, not a look, escaped Old Wheels, who said,