“O Daddy, Daddy!” sobbed a frightened little voice.
Two strong arms lifted the shivering little fellow and placed him in the buckboard right beside his own mother.
“Robert, Robert!” she cried tremulously. “How did you ever get way out here at this time of night?—and in your stocking feet!”
“Oh, Mother, I want to go home, and I’ll bring in the wood,
and feed the chickens”
“Oh, Mother, I was g-going to Nurse’s and my shoes hurt and I went to sleep, but I don’t want to go there any m-more. I want to go ho-home, and I’ll bring in the wood, and f-feed the chickens every day, and you needn’t give me any m-money at all!”
Then Mother, who was a wonderful magician, understood all about it.
“Oh,” she cried softly, “supposing we had gone home by the other road!”
But Father said, “Let’s see. It isn’t too late yet. Shan’t we turn around and carry him to Blakeville?”
“Oh, no, no!” pleaded Robert, clutching his father’s arm, “I want to go ho-ome.”