"No, Robbie," Mrs. McDougall replied. "They're just lost, and that's all about it."
Robbie could not understand how it could be, but he saw that his mother was in great trouble, and he did not like to ask any questions.
"This will not do," Mrs. McDougall said, with a heavy sigh, as she rose resolutely from her chair, and began bustling about. "You shouldn't ha' got up yet, Robbie. It's over early for you."
"I thought it was late," Robbie said. "Mother," he added eagerly, "might I—oh! might I run and fetch the milk for you? Oh, do just let me go!"
"the child glanced at her wonderingly" ([p. 264]).
"Dear me! no, child," Mrs. McDougall replied. "You'd be lost too."
"Should I?" Robbie said, very crestfallen. "Can't I do nothing, mother?"
"Yes; you shall feed the hens. You know how to do that, don't you, Robbie? I'll just get the food ready for them."
Robbie was delighted. He longed to be useful.