“No, sonny, you shan’t go back,” repeated Mr. Jolly soothingly. “I’ll take you to a nice place, Robin Hill. I guess they’ll make room for you somehow. This little girl will tell you how nice it is there. Won’t you?”
“Are there any boys?” asked Roger anxiously. “I won’t go if there are.”
“But they are nice boys,” said Lydia, eager for the good name of her special friends, Sammy and Tom. “They wouldn’t hurt you for anything. They are lots of fun to play with. And you will like Miss Martin, she is so good to you.”
Roger shook his head.
“I don’t like boys,” said he. “Do you live there?”
“I used to,” answered Lydia, “but I don’t now.”
“Then I’ll go with you,” announced Roger, picking up his bread and butter, and taking a firm hold on Lydia’s dress.
“You stay here with me, sonny,” said Mr. Jolly, nodding and winking in a friendly way, “and long about evening when I get my work done I’ll take you up to Robin Hill. You heard the little girl tell it’s a good place to be.”
“No, I’ll go home with her,” said Roger, his mind quite fixed. “I like her. I want to live with her.” And he held tighter than ever to Lydia.
Mr. Jolly and the little girl looked at one another a moment in silence. Neither knew quite what to do or say. At last Lydia spoke.