“Good-evening, Molly,” called out Mr. Hawtry, cheerfully; “I am carrying home Dan in pillion fashion, because the rogue has dropped his crutch into the mill dam, and he could not manage with the other. I found him in difficulties, sitting under the mill hedge, very tired and hungry. You will let him have his tea, Molly, as it was accident and not mischief. I forgot to say the other crutch is lying in the road broken; it broke itself—didn’t it, Dan?—in its attempt to get him home?” and here Mr. Hawtry’s eyes twinkled, but he could not be induced, neither could Dan, to explain the mystery of the broken crutch.
“You will come to a bad end, Dan,” remarked Molly, severely, as she lifted down the boy, not over gently; but she forbore to shake him, as he was wholly in her power—a piece of magnanimity on Molly’s part.
Mr. Hawtry dismounted, perhaps to see that Dan had merciful treatment; but he need not have been afraid, Molly had too large a heart to be hard on a crippled boy, and one who was her special torment and pet. Molly could not have starved a dog, and certainly not red-headed Dan.
He was soon established in his special chair, with a thick wedge of cold buttered cake in his hand. Scolding did not hurt as long as Molly saw to his comforts, and Dan looked as happy as a king in spite of his lost crutches.
Mr. Hawtry came into the kitchen, and when he saw us I thought he started a little as though he were surprised, and he came up to me at once.
“Good-evening, Miss Fenton; I did not expect to see you here, and my little friend, too,” as Joyce as usual ran up to him. “What a lovely evening you have for your walk home! You did not bring Miss Cheriton with you?”
“No; she has visitors this afternoon; the children and I have had our tea here, and now it is Reggie’s bed-time.”
“Shall I call Hannah?” he returned, hastily, for I was putting Reggie in his perambulator. “I saw her walking down the orchard with Luke Armstrong and Matthew.” And as I thanked him he bade Molly good-bye, and, putting his arm through his horse’s bridle, in another moment we could hear a clear whistle.
Hannah came at once; she looked happy and rosy, and whispered to Molly as we went down the courtyard together. Mr. Hawtry was at the horse-block; as he mounted he called me by name, and asked if the little girl would like a ride.
I knew he would be careful, but all the same I longed to refuse, only Joyce looked disappointed and ready to cry.