And in this way they went from place to place. As they had seen beauties and wonders the day before, they saw wonders and beauties to-day, but to-day their pleasure had a flavor new to them. For the first time in years, since they had left their little seat at their own fireside, they were not alone, and some one seemed to mean to look after them. John Holt was an eminently practical person, and when they left the Palace of the Flowers they began vaguely to realize that, stranger or not, he had taken charge of them. It was evident that he was in the habit of taking charge of people and things. He took charge of the satchel. It appeared that he knew where it was safe to leave it.
“Can we get it at lunch time?” Robin asked, with some anxiety.
“You can get it when you want it,” said John Holt.
A little later he looked at Ben’s pale, small face scrutinizingly.
“Look here,” he said, “you’re tired.” And without any further question he called up a rolling-chair.
“Get into that,” he said.
“Me?” said Ben, a little alarmed.
“Yes.”
And, almost a shade paler at the thought of such grandeur, Ben got in, and fell back with a luxurious sigh.
And at midday, when they were beginning to feel ravenous, though no one mentioned the subject, he asked Meg a blunt question.