I tell you we fellows felt awful cheap; a sight cheaper than Bob did himself. Jeff Ryder whispered to me that he was going to bolt, but it was no go. Bob stepped right in front of us.
HURRAH FOR HOME AND CHRISTMAS!
“Boys,” said he; “boys, you must let me—if I only could tell you—if you only knew—” and just then Hal Thorndike came along (the cousin had run away up-stairs) and set things right as he has a way of doing.
“All right, youngster,” he said; “we know just what you want to say—no one who looked at you could accuse you of being ungrateful. Let up now, old fellow, don’t say a word more, but go up to my room and see if I left my watch-key on the bureau.”
Bob ran off, and Harry said, “now cut for it, fellows!” says he; “hip, vamoose, get, pile into the sleigh, or he’ll be back again, thanking you worse than ever!”
So in we jumped, the whip cracked, the bells jingled, and we gave three cheers for the Doctor, and three more for his wife, and then we dashed away.
Of course, little Richards wrote to us, but a letter isn’t half so bad as to have a fellow brace right up and thank you before your face and eyes. So we got out of it pretty well after all, didn’t we?
And this is all there is about “Bob’s ‘Breaking In,’” and not much of a story either to write all out and send to a magazine. But you see Jim told me to, and it was lonesome with Jim and Nell and mother gone, and only the cat for company the whole afternoon.