“You could have had friends here.”
Billy gazed at the gardener and gave a snort. “Pete wouldn’t let me! If I even let out a yip, he would tell me to be quiet—that I was making you worse.”
“I see,” said Colonel Brekenridge quietly.
“Whatever I did, the servants would tell me not to make so much noise,” Billy went on. “The only fun I had was watching the Cubs. I wish I could be one.”
“And why not?” interposed Mr. Holloway heartily. “You’re the right age, Billy.”
“Also, you’re mighty handy with a bow and arrow!” added Dan. “You could teach us quite a few tricks.”
“Billy would be a real asset in our play,” added Brad. “If we’re to win the prize, we need a few fancy marksmen.”
Billy’s face had become highly animated. Springing up from the steps, he gazed anxiously at his grandfather.
“Oh, may I join?” he pleaded. “May I, Grandfather? I promise I’ll be as quiet as a mouse around here and never make you nervous.”
The colonel laughed. “Billy, you’re the same as a Cub Scout right now, if the organization will take a rascal like you! Furthermore, your days of tiptoeing around lest you disturb me are at an end. I’m well on the road to recovery. A little healthy boy-noise will do me good for a change!”