"Hullo!" Unmistakably Joel's voice, and there he was, wet and dirty, and waving frantically from a side street for them to stop, as he made his best time to the corner.
Jasper threw wide the door. "Joe!" he cried. Thomas pulled up again, the horses by this time having become so well accustomed to this method of bringing up that they did it quite well, and there was a great to-do in the coach.
"I've been calling and calling," panted Joel, blowing like a porpoise, and running up with red cheeks, "and you wouldn't stop," he added in a very injured way.
"Well, we didn't hear you, you beggar," cried Jasper. "Come, get in with you"—putting out both hands to assist in the process. "Where have you been, Joe?" for old Mr. King was beyond talking.
"I've been—" began Joel, glad enough to hop in; "why, where—" as his black eyes fell on the boy in the corner.
Frick had tried to swarm all over him, but Joel put out an unsteady hand.
"I came to tell," said the boy, seeing he was expected to say something.
"Oh, don't," cried Joel involuntarily; "'tisn't any matter; I don't care."
"Well, it's all out, Joe," said Jasper affectionately, who couldn't stop patting his back. Frick flew over to the opposite side and let Joel snuggle up to the old gentleman. "I'm here, Grandpapa," he said happily.
"Oh, bless me! Yes, my boy!" said old Mr. King brokenly, and fondling the little brown hands. "Well, we must get you home and out of these wet clothes as soon as possible. I don't know what your mother will say. Oh, dear me, Joe!"