"Well done. There's one honest boy in the fair, at any rate. Take this for your trouble, but don't spend it all on ginger bread."
"Oh, thank you, sir, I shan't spend any. I'm going to Ironboro'."
"But that is a hundred miles off, at least. Why are you going so far?" asked the lady.
"To find my uncle and learn to be an engineer."
"H'm, a large order for a small man," said the gentleman kindly. "Here, I'll give you a character that may help you more than money." And tearing a leaf out of his pocket book, he wrote on it, "I have proved the bearer to be a quick and honest boy. Dale Melville."
"There, laddie, that name is known in Ironboro', and it may do you a good turn."
"Are you going alone?" asked the lady with white hair, who had been listening to all that passed, and seemed amused at Dick's gratitude.
"Oh, yes, ma'am—at least only Pat and me. He is my little dog, you know."
Then with sudden recollection he turned hurriedly and looked for his faithful follower. But there was no Pat in sight, and flushing painfully, he cried, "Oh, he's left behind. I must run back at once, or he'll be lost in the fair."
And scarcely waiting to lift his old cap to the ladies, he darted back towards the town. Thrusting the new half-crown deep into his pocket, he sped on, calling Pat and whistling for him in vain.