“South corner,” indicating the direction with a bob of his woolly head; “he's got a gang of men down there with him picking.”
“Let's go and help 'em,” said Harry, “we can eat all we want to and have lots of fun,” but the words were no sooner uttered than he realised that hobbling over that rough orchard was out of the question for Regie, and indeed it was too rough to drive farther in with the cart.
“One of us must stay with Pet,” said Regie, casually, as though there was no other reason in the world why he should not go. Harry and Nan scampered off, with some misgivings on Nan's part as to the kindness of deserting her king; but the vision of a seat on a comfortable bough, with luscious peaches within easy reach, was a stronger test than even her loyalty could bear.
“Want to get out?” said the coloured boy to Rex, when the children had gone. “I'll help you,” glancing significantly toward the crutches.
“No, thank you,” answered Rex, “it is too much bother;” and, foolish, sensitive little fellow that he was, he blushed up to the roots of his hair, as though a broken leg was something to be heartily ashamed of.
“Lame long?” asked the boy, who seemed averse to wasting breath on any unnecessary words.
“Three months,” said Rex, “but I'll soon be over it. I wish you'd let down Pet's check,” he added, willing to change the subject.
“Boss pony,” said the boy, carrying out Regie's request, whereupon Pet sniffed about him, expecting something to eat.
“Seems hungry,” said the boy.
“That can't be,” said Rex, proudly; “he has all the hay and oats he wants every day.”