“Thank you. No, I am not needed now. I am not of much account there anyway; and we shall be very happy to accept your invitation,” added Bonny, with a sudden change of determination induced by a hasty study of her little brother’s face. How hungry he did look! How good a real dinner would taste to the child! Well, if people didn’t mean what they said they should be punished by being believed!
Yet Mr. Brook’s smile at her acceptance told certainly enough how sincere had been his invitation; and in a few seconds more the whole party were driving down Broadway, and Robert felt himself of considerable more importance than when he had interviewed pedestrians on the flower question.
“Do you like riding, lad?” asked Mr. Brook, amused at the earnest expression of the boy’s face.
“Like it! You bet! It’s bully!”
Dolloway frowned and sniffed. “Talk English, can’t you?”
“He knows what I mean; so do you,” replied “Humpty-Dumpty” instantly.
“Rob! don’t be impertinent!” cried Beatrice, warningly.
“Ain’t impertinent. I do like it. Bully means tip-top. I don’t mean anything out the way, only it does bother me to talk c’rect. I will when I get older, mebbe.”
“Train up a child in the way—” said Dolloway; but got no further, for Robert’s exclamations effectually stopped all other conversation, even if his elders had been inclined to converse; and pleasant though the ride was, all save the boy were glad when the carriage drew up before the substantial old hostelry where Mr. Brook felt was the only positive comfort to be found in the city.
“This is our parlor, my dear. Isn’t it a good, old-fashioned room? Our bedrooms open off from it. I have put up at this ‘inn’ for many years; that is, I used to do so when I was in the habit of spending much of my time in town. Did I mention to you that we return home in the morning?”