The boy looked at his stepmother. Her brown eyes were watching him earnestly, and a little sadly. They reminded him of Jack's, and he answered quickly, "Oh, she may hear if she likes!"
At this point husband and wife laughed, and Theodore joined heartily.
"Now, then, what is it? Have you tired of Jigger, and want me to get you a bigger pony?"
"No, father; I couldn't part with Jigger."
"Then what is it, Theodore?"
"I have been in the hayfields nearly all day, with the vicarage children," the boy began, "and Jack has been at home alone. I did not think he might be lonely. I did not think about him at all. But he was lonely; he told me so. I want to give a party in the lower meadow to-morrow; and, father, don't you think, as it is so close, we might wheel Jack in his chair as far as the gate, and then you could carry him very carefully, and put him on a comfortable seat in the hay. Oh, I'll make him such a cosy nest!"
"Of course I could, my boy, and I will."
"Oh, father, thank you! Jack will be so glad. But you mustn't tell him. He must go out in his chair, just as usual, and we will wheel him carefully down the road till we come to the lower meadow; and then you must come along, as if by chance, you know, and carry him the rest of the way—won't you?"
"I will, my son."
Mr. Barton looked down at the eager, animated face, so like his own in features, so unlike in expression, and a glow of fatherly love filled his heart for his child. Never, he thought, had he seen Theodore look so handsome, so noble. The little fellow's eyes shone brightly at the thought of the pleasure in store for his stepbrother; for his affection for Jack, which had commenced out of protecting pity, was fast developing into deep, unselfish love.