“The other shares are in the market then?”
Tandy was seated now cross-legged on a chair, and leaning over the back of it, bending towards Halcott with an earnest light, in his eyes, such as few had ever seen therein.
“The other shares are for sale,” said Halcott.
It was just at this moment that Ransey Tansey and little Nelda came, or rather burst into the room. Both were breathless, both were rosy; and Bob, who came in behind them, was panting, with half a yard of tongue—well, perhaps, not quite so much—hanging red over his alabaster teeth.
“O daddy,” cried Babs, as father still called her, “we’ve had such fun! And the ’Ral,” (a pet name that the crane had somehow obtained possession of) “dug up plenty of pretty things for us, and he wanted Bob to eat a big white worm, only Bob wouldn’t.”
One of his children stood on each side of him, and he had placed one arm round each.
Thus Tandy faced Halcott once more, smiling, perhaps, a little sadly now.
“I can buy those shares, Halcott. Do not think me ambitious. A money-grabber I never was. But, you see these little tots. Ransey here can make his way in the world.—Can’t you, Ransey?”
“Rather, father,” said Ransey.
“But, Halcott, though I am not in the flower of my youth, I’m in the prime of my manhood, and I’d do everything I know to build up a shelter for my little Babs against the cold winds of adversity before I—But I must not speak of anything sad before the child.”