“By Jove, Teddo, old man, we will miss you!” went on Willie. “We’ll hate coach days to come, and not see you rattling down the road. It won’t seem the same at all without you. Good luck, wherever you go!”
They all cheered Willie’s speech, and then Teddo rose to his feet.
“I’m not much of a hand at a speech,” he said, “but I must say a few words and thank everyone of you for the nice things you have said. I think the five of you are the nicest little girls in the world, and Willie’s one of the nicest chaps, and wherever I go I’ll never forget you. It was real bosker of you to give me this spread, and Teddo never forgets old friends—never. I’ll always remember the lot of you; and I’m not much of a hand with the pen, but I’ll write you all a letter from Queensland—you see if I don’t!”
“Me, too, Teddo,” said Baby.
“Ess, you, too, Baby.”
“Oh, do, Teddo, do!” came a chorus of voices. “We’d love to get your letters.”
“Yes, I’ll write, right enough. Teddo don’t make promises to break them.”
There was great cheering then, and cries of “Hear, hear.”
“We know that, Teddo—we know that,” came the chorus again.
“And I say again that I’ll never forget you,” he went on, “and I hope you’re always happy and contented and get on real well all your lives.”