"But look here!" said the person in kilts, breaking off suddenly in an animated description of the brown crockery cow, "you must carry me about on your back!"
"Why, of course!" responded Bubble. "What do you suppose I come here for?"
"And go on all-fours when I want you to!" persisted the small tyrant. "'Cause Jeremiah has a bone in his leg, and them girls"—oh, black ingratitude of childhood!—"won't. I don't need you for a pillow, 'cause I has my sweet old fat kyat for a pillow."
"Naturally!" said Bubble. "But if you should want a bolster any time, just let me know."
"Because I's ve boy of ve house, you see!" said Benny, in a tone of relief.
"You are that!" responded Bubble, with great heartiness.
By general consent, the second half of Zerubbabel's narrative was reserved for the evening, when Miss Wealthy could hear and enjoy it. Hildegarde and Rose, of course, found out all about their kind friends at the Farm; and the former looked very grave when she heard that Mr. and Mrs. Hartley were expecting Rose without fail early in September, and were counting the days till her return. But she resolutely shook off all selfish thoughts, and entered heartily into the pleasure of doing the honors of the place for the new-comer.
Bubble was delighted with everything. It was the prettiest place he had ever seen. There never was such a garden; there never were such apple-trees, "except the Red Russet tree at the Farm!" he said. "That tree is hard to beat. 'Member it, Miss Hilda,—great big tree, down by the barn?"
"Indeed I do!" said Hilda. "Those are the best apples in the world, I think; and so beautiful,—all golden brown, with the bright scarlet patch on one cheek. Dear apples! I wish I might have some this fall."
Bubble smiled, knowing that Farmer Hartley was counting upon sending his best barrel of Russets to his favorite "Huldy;" but preserved a discreet silence, and they went on down to the boat-house.