“I think you may go, then,” said Mrs. Ellsworth, “as you don’t have to cross the street to get there. I am going down to papa’s office, and will tell him to stop for you when he comes home.”
“No, mamma,” said Robbie, “I’d rather not. I have a very much reason for wanting to come home alone.”
That was his way of saying he had a very good, and, in his eyes, important reason, which he didn’t want to give. So his mother agreed, kissed him good-by, and he started out, first getting his little green wheelbarrow from the hall closet.
He trudged along down one street, up another, till he stopped on the stone steps of “Uncle Will’s house,” and gave the bell such a pull as only a boy of about Robbie’s size knows how.
Aunt Flora greeted her small visitor very warmly, laughing at his wheelbarrow, but he pushed right by her, and trudged into Uncle Will’s office, pushing his wheelbarrow before him. Uncle Will was engaged in discussing the cholera germ with a brother physician, but he turned and welcomed his nephew cheerily:
“Well, my man! What can I do for you to-day? Will you cart a wheelbarrow of books around to the library for me?”
“Mamma wouldn’t let me,” said Robbie. “I came to see if you would let me have one wheelbarrowful of the bricks that were left over—out in the back yard.”
“Certainly,” said Uncle Will. “You can go right out and get them.”
So Robbie turned again, too eager to even thank his uncle, pushed his wheelbarrow through the dining-room, and was soon taking down bricks from the pile by the back stoop.
His barrow didn’t hold but about a half-dozen, and soon Irish Mary was lifting it up the steps, and he arrived again before his uncle’s door.