"He will very soon."
"Won't you come round and see me occasionally, Ralph?" asked Kit, with a curious smile.
"Yes; I may call on Saturday. I should like to see how you look."
Kit smiled again. He thought it extremely doubtful whether Ralph would see him at the blacksmith's forge.
Half an hour after breakfast, while Ralph and Kit were in the stable, the sound of wheels was heard, and a stout, broad-shouldered man, with a bronzed complexion, drove up in a farm wagon. Throwing his reins over the horse's neck, he descended from the wagon, and turned in at the gate. Mr. Watson, who had been sitting at the front window, opened the door for him.
"Glad to see you, Mr. Bickford," he said.
"Is the boy ready?" asked the blacksmith. "I can take him right over with me this morning."
"Come into the house, I will send for him."
Mr. Bickford noticed the handsome appearance of the hall, and the front room, the door of which was partly open, and said: "If the boy's been used to livin' here, he must be kind of high strung. I can't give him no such home as this."
"Of course not, Mr. Bickford. He can't expect it. He's a poor boy, and will have to make his own way in the world. Beggars can't be choosers, you know."