Mr. Prescott didn’t know it, but he had touched a place in Billy’s heart that nobody had ever touched before. Nobody except Billy knew that he had such a place.
Billy waited a minute—a long minute, then he said slowly:
“I’ve wished and wished and wished that I had a big brother of my own.”
“Then,” said Mr. Prescott, “your wish has come true.”
He said that as though he was as glad as he could be that he had worked that thing out right.
Then, getting up and going over to the nearest electric chain, he said firmly, like the Mr. Prescott that Billy loved best:
“That big brother is right here. His name is Henry Marshall Prescott, and he’s here, right here.”
CHAPTER XIII
IRON HORSES
