"Hoo-hoo-oo-oo!" he called.
She gave a leap forward. "Why, it's Johnnie Blake!" she cried. "Johnnie! Oh, Johnnie!"
It was Johnnie. There was no mistaking that small freckled nose. "Say! Don't you want to help dig worms?" he invited. And proffered his drinking-cup.
She needed no urging, but began to dig at once; and found bait in abundance, so that the cup was quickly filled, and she was compelled to use his ragged straw hat. "Oh, isn't this nice!" she exclaimed. "And after we fish let's hunt a frog!"
"I know where there's tadpoles," boasted he. "And long-legged bugs that can walk on the water, and—"
"Oh, I want to stay here always!"
She had forgotten that there were others about. But now a voice—her father's— broke in upon her happy chatter:
"Without your mother?"
She had been sitting down. She rose, and brushed her hands on the skirt of her dress. "I'll find my moth-er," she said.
The little old gentleman was beside Johnnie, patting his shoulder and thrusting something into a riveted pocket. "There!" he half-whispered. "And tell your father to be sure to keep this nose away from the grindstone."