“That’s who it is, honey,” said the white-haired boy, cheerfully.
“Oh, Neale! so much has happened since you’ve been gone. Sammy’s got scarlet fever; but he’s better. And Almira’s got four kittens. And we’ve got visitors, and one of ’em’s a girl and she can turn on the trapeze—so easy! And you’ve got a whole heap of Christmas presents in the sitting room that you’ve never seen yet.”
“All right. I’ll go in and see ’em right now,” Neale said, and took her hand in his free one. When they mounted the porch steps and Agnes and Ruth and Dot came running to the door to meet him, he dropped his heavy bag in a corner and did not take it into the house. He had just come from the railroad station.
“You see,” Neale said, when he was hustled into the warm sitting room by the four Corner House girls, and even before he took off his coat and cap and gloves, “I got a letter about Uncle Bill Sorber from one of the other Sorbers. He was hurt two months ago—badly burned, poor old fellow!—when the circus arrived at winter quarters.
“They always give a last performance there at Tiverton, and another when they start out in the spring. There was an accident this time. A tank of gasoline fell from aloft, and got afire, and Uncle Bill was hurt badly. The doctors gave him up at last, and so they sent for me.”
“I know about it,” said Agnes, nodding.
“How’d you know? Must have seen it in the paper, I s’pose,” said Neale. “Well, I missed it. I didn’t know a thing about his being hurt till I found that letter at home Christmas Eve.”
“But why did you go away without telling us?” Ruth asked earnestly.
“I didn’t want to bother you girls, then. And you expected me to help you at that Christmas tree business, too. So I only left the note with Unc’ Rufus and told him not to give it to you till just before dinner. I fixed it with Con Murphy to take my place. He did, didn’t he?”
“Yes,” the eager Agnes said.