“Oh, mother!” shouted Hughie, “isn't it splendid? Ranald and Don are going to live in it all the sugaring time, and Ranald wants me to come, too. Mayn't I, mother? Aw, do let me.”
The mother looked down upon the eager face, smiled, and shook her head. “What about the night, Hughie?” she said. “It will be very dark in the woods here, and very cold, too. Ranald and Don are big boys and strong, but I'm afraid my little boy would not be very comfortable sleeping outside.”
“Oh, mother, we'll be inside, and it'll be awful warm—and oh, you might let me!” Hughie's tears were restrained only by the shame of weeping before his hero, Ranald.
“Well, we will see what your father says when he comes home.”
“Oh, mother, he will just say 'no' right off, and—”
A shadow crossed his mother's face, but she only answered quietly, “Never mind just now, Hughie; we will think of it. Besides,” she added, “I don't know how much Ranald wants to be bothered with a wee boy like you.”
Ranald gave her a quick, shy glance and answered:
“He will be no trouble, Mrs. Murray”; and then, noticing Hughie's imploring face, he ventured to add, “and indeed, I hope you will let him come. I will take good care of him.”
Mrs. Murray hesitated.
“Oh, mother!” cried Hughie, seeing her hesitation, “just one night; I won't be a bit afraid.”