“Mr Merryboy, I presume?” said the Guardian, descending from the car.
“The same. Glad to see you. Are these my boys?”
He spoke in a quick, hearty, off-hand manner, but Bobby and Tim hated him at once, for were they not on the point of leaving their last and best friend, and was not this man the cause?
They turned to their Guardian to say farewell, and, even to their own surprise, burst into tears.
“God bless you, dear boys,” he said, while the guard held open the door of the car as if to suggest haste; “good-bye. It won’t be very long I think before I see you again. Farewell.”
He sprang into the car, the train glided away, and the two waifs stood looking wistfully after it with the first feelings of desolation that had entered their hearts since landing in Canada.
“My poor lads,” said Mr Merryboy, laying a hand on the shoulder of each, “come along with me. Home is only six miles off, and I’ve got a pair of spanking horses that will trundle us over in no time.”
The tone of voice, to say nothing of “home” and “spanking horses,” improved matters greatly. Both boys thought, as they entered the wagon, that they did not hate him quite so much as at first.
The bays proved worthy of their master’s praise. They went over the road through the forest in grand style, and in little more than half an hour landed Bobby and Tim at the door of their Canadian home.
It was dark by that time, and the ruddy light that shone in the windows and that streamed through the door as it opened to receive them seemed to our waifs like a gleam of celestial light.