“I’ll say so,” said Anabelle. “Well, let us sit here until we are found. It is much safer than to go wandering about.”
“You are quite right,” agreed Rollo. “We once lost a fine brindle cow, because she wandered into a swamp and sank in a quagmire. But, hello—what is this?” As he spoke Rollo pulled from his coat pocket a small bottle.
“As I live and breathe, it is a bottle of martini which Jonas has thoughtfully prepared against the cold.”
“Blessings on Jonas!” cried his little companion. “I am almost frozen.”
It was the work of a moment to spread the robe on a grassy knoll, and here Cousin Stella’s chauffeur found them just as Rollo tossed the empty bottle into a coppice.
“Atta-boy!” cried Rollo gaily as they struggled to their feet and ran toward the automobile. It was now quite dark, and when they were snugly tucked among the cushions Rollo began to feel very sleepy. As they rolled homeward through the night, the little boy drowsed off into slumber. Then he seemed to see two bright stars gleaming in the sky, which reminded him of Anabelle’s eyes and it seemed to him that he kissed her. But he may have been dreaming.
“Who won?” asked Jonas when Rollo and Lucy reached the apartment.
“I did,” cried Rollo, “I beat Rupert Hogan all to pieces.”
“But who won the football match?” persisted Jonas.