“You’ve got to.”
“What for?”
“She’ll tell you.”
“I won’t go,” declared the little fellow, starting to wade deeper into the water.
“No, you don’t,” said Bob, quickly, catching hold of Ned’s arm. “See here, don’t be a gump. The artist who boards down at your house is up at the schoolhouse with the teacher.”
“Oh, is he?” cried Ned, brightening up. “I’ll go, then, Bob.”
All the scholars looked curious as Bob crossed the playground with Ned in his charge.
“Close the door. Bob,” spoke Miss Williams, as Bob led Ned into the schoolroom. “You can remain, if you like.”
Bob sat down at one of the desks. In a halting, shame-faced way Ned hunched up to the teacher.