“Well,” Farmer Shindle said hesitatingly, “there’ll be plenty of room for you daytimes, an’ I reckon we’ll manage to have all you can eat; but I don’t know as to stowin’ you away at night. We’ll have to talk with mother ’bout that.”
“Don’t you worry for us,” Bill replied without hesitation. “We’ll fix ourselves, an’ all you’ve got to do is to have the farm right where it was when Tom an’ Bob was out there.”
“Did you invite all these boys to visit with you, Josiah?” the farmer asked in a whisper; and, in the fewest possible words, his son explained the situation of affairs.
“Oh, that’s it, eh? Well, I wouldn’t like to begrudge anything to these poor children who don’t ever have a chance to get a breath of pure air; but at the same time, I ain’t sure as it would be treatin’ mother jest right to have all of ’em pilin’ in on her in such a load.”
Bill waited until the whispered conversation had come to an end, and then said in a confidential tone to Josiah:—
“I reckon you had better go now, ’cause you’ll wanter see your father; but we’ll meet you agin before the train leaves.”
“I guess that would be the best way,” the boy replied, thoroughly relieved at the prospect of parting with the escort.
“We ain’t goin’ to lose sight of you, Mr. Shindle,” Bill said to the farmer; “but we’ve got a little business over on this side of the river, an’ will turn up agin to-night. You’ll get along without us, ’cause Tom and Bob can put you ’round.”
“I reckon we shall get through all right,” the farmer replied with a laugh, and Bill gave the word of command to take up the line of march in a very loud voice.
Josiah was more than willing to part with these acquaintances; and after watching Bill and his friends until they had passed through the gate to the street, he turned to his father.