“Thank you, ma’am.”
“Can’t you get a stage to Oakwood?” put in Frank.
“He can get a mail stage from Barrettsville,” said the woman. “That’s a mile west of here,” and she pointed out the direction. “My son is going to drive to Barrettsville in about an hour.”
“Then you had better go with him, Bobby,” said Frank.
“I will—if he’ll take me,” returned the boy, who did not relish the long tramp home. Soon he was eating the meal the woman set before him. While doing so he told his story over again, and the woman gave him some good advice.
“It was nice of you to advise him to go back,” she said to our hero.
“I thought it no more than right to do so,” answered Frank.
He spoke to her about books, but she did not wish to buy, and he did not press the matter. Soon her son drove up, and Bobby climbed into the carriage with him.
“Thank you both,” he cried.
“You’re welcome,” said the woman.