“Yes, I know,” said Dick, “but we won’t stay a minute. Just let us run in and see that brook. It’s such a dandy! I never saw a brook but once or twice in all my life.”
“Yez didn’t! The saints presarve us! Wherever have yez lived?”
“In the city,—in Chicago. Do stop a minute, please, Michael.”
“Please, Michael,” added Dolly, and her sweet voice and coaxing glance were too much for Michael’s soft heart.
Grumbling a little under his breath, he pulled up his horses, and let the children get out.
“Just a minute, now,” he said, warningly. “I’ll bring yez back here some other day. Can yez get under the brush there?”
“We’ll go over,” cried Dick, as he climbed and scrambled over a low thicket of brush.
Dolly scrambled through, somehow, and the two children that emerged on the other side of the brush were quite different in appearance from the two sedate-looking ones that Mr. Halkett had left behind him.
Dick’s white collar had received a smudge, his stocking was badly torn, and his cheek showed a long scratch.
Dolly’s white frock was a sight! Her pretty tan coat had lost a button or two, and her hat was still in the bushes.