This took a long time, there was so much ado in settling so many girls to the satisfaction of all; and looking backward he saw that there would still be a delay of several moments.
“I say, Dorothy, come on. I want to show you where we used to live before my father died. We’ll be back in plenty time. It’s the dearest little house, with only two rooms in it; but after we left it nobody lived there and it’s all gone to pieces. Makes me feel bad but I’d like to show you. Just down that block and around a side street. Come on. What’s the use standing here?”
“Sure we can be back in time, Robin?”
“Certain. Cross my heart. I’m telling you the truth. It’s only a step or so.”
“Well, then, let’s hurry.”
Hurry they did, he whistling as usual, until they came to a narrow alley that had used to be open but had now been closed by a great pile of lumber, impossible for them to climb.
“Oh! pshaw! Somebody must be going to build here. But never mind. Our house was right yonder, we can go another way.”
His interest as well as hers in exploring “new places,” made them forget everything else; and when, at last, they came to Robin’s old home a full half-hour had passed.
It was, indeed, a sorry place. Broken windows, hanging doors and shutters, chimney fallen, and doorstep gone. Nobody occupied it now except, possibly, a passing tramp or the street gamin who had destroyed it.
“My! I’m glad my Mother can’t see it now. She never has since we moved down to our cottage in the glen. It would break her dear heart, for my father built it when they were first married. That was the kitchen, that the bedroom—Hark! What’s that?”