"Aunt Hetty, Aunt Hetty, I want to see the little boy!"
The girl started, and then stood motionless, for the recluse below had suddenly looked up, and was gazing in amazement at the girl and child in the window above him.
The man and boy in the yard were both bare-headed. Bramwell raised his open hand above his eyes to shield them from the glare of the sky, that he might see the better.
Hetty drew back a pace, as though she had been discovered in a shameful act. Her colour deepened, but she would not go altogether away from the window. That would be to admit she had been doing something wrong.
"Aunt Hetty," cried Freddie, in the same shrill loud voice, "can I play with that little boy down there? I have no one to play with here."
The upturned face of the man smiled, and the voice of the man said, "Come down, my little fellow, and play with this boy. He is just like yourself--he has no one to play with. You will let him come, please? I will take the utmost care of him."
"I--I'll see," stammered Hetty, quite taken aback.
"You will let him come? O, pray do. My little fellow has no companion but me," said the deep, full, rich pleading voice of the man.
In her confusion Hetty said, "If it's safe. If he can get across."
"O, it's quite safe. I will answer for the child. I'll push across the stage in a moment, and fetch the child. There is plenty of room for them to play here, and absolutely no danger."