“No,” she said, “I’ve no time to be anxious about children. I took care of myself when I was your age; and I had a sort of notion you’d come here. Who are you with?”
John Holt lifted his hat, but without too much ceremony. He knew Mrs. Matilda Jennings’s principles were opposed to the ceremonious.
“I’m a sort of neighbor of yours, Mrs. Jennings,” he explained. “I have some land near your farm, though I don’t live on the place. My name is John Holt.”
Aunt Matilda glanced from him to Robin.
She knew all about John Holt, and was quite sufficiently business-like to realize that it would be considered good luck to have him for a friend.
“Well,” she said to them, “you’ve got into good hands.”
John Holt laughed.
“By this time we all three think we’ve got into good hands,” he said; “and we’re going to see this thing through.”
“They haven’t money enough to see much of it,” said Mrs. Jennings.
“No,” said John Holt, “but I have, and it’s to be my treat.”