“Why, Bobaday Padgett,” exclaimed aunt Corinne, “if there isn't our wagon—and Ma Padgett.”
Both children came running to the carriage steps, and their guardian got down, trembling. She put her arms around them, and after a silent hug, shook one in each hand.
The fire illuminated wagon and carriage, J. D. Matthew's cart, and the logs and bushes surrounding them. It flickered on the blue spectacles and gave Grandma Padgett a piercing expression while she examined her culprits.
“Where have you been, while Zene and I hunted up and down in such distress?”
“We's going right back to the tavern soon's he could get us there,” Robert hastened to explain. “It's that funny fellow, J. D., Grandma. But he thought we better go roundabout, so they wouldn't catch us.”
Zene, limping down from his wagon, listened to this lucid statement.
“O Zene,” exclaimed aunt Corinne, “I'm so glad you and Ma Padgett have come! But we knew you wouldn't go on to Brother Tip's without us. Bobaday said you'd wait till we got back, and we ran right straight out of town.”
“You ought to be well sprouted, both of you,” said Grandma Padgett, still trembling as she advanced toward the fire. “Robert Day, break me a switch; break me a good one, and peel the leaves off. So you came across this man again, and he persuaded you to run away with him, did he?”
J. D. Matthews, who had stood up smiling his widest, now moved around to the other side of his cart and crouched in alarm.
Grandma Padgett now saw that the cart was standing level and open, and within it there appeared a nest of brown curls and one slim, babyish hand.