'Master Bobby is wanted in the drawing-room.'
Jane brought this message up just as the nursery tea was being cleared away.
'Are there visitors?' enquired Nurse.
'Yes; a gentleman.'
It was only on rare occasions that the child was sent for. Nurse was in a flutter at once, putting on his best brown velvet suit, with his little cream-silk shirt, and brushing out his curls with great skill and care.
Bobby did not like the summons at all. He remembered the last time he had been in the drawing-room. It was to see an old clergyman who had patted him on the head and asked him if he knew his Catechism. He had wriggled away from him, and upset a vase of flowers upon a table near, and had been sent upstairs in disgrace, his grandmother declaring that 'children were always out of place in a drawing-room.'
'It's another old gempleum, Nurse. I don't like them at all.'
But when he opened the drawing-room door he saw his grandmother sitting in her stiffest sternest attitude, and, seated opposite to her, the tall man with the bright eyes and the curly hair who had rescued him that afternoon from the bull.
Bobby's heart sank into his boots at once. So he had come to tell tales of him to his grandmother. He had had one scolding and a punishment from Nurse, now he would get another!
'Come here, Bobby,' said his grandmother coldly. 'Your father has come to see you.'
He could not believe his ears. For an instant he gazed wildly and uncomprehendingly at the stranger, who turned and held out his hand.
'Why, upon my word! You're the little chap who withstood the furious bull! Come along. No wonder I felt as I did when I saw you!'
How often had Bobby rehearsed this scene to himself! He had pictured himself flinging himself with a glad cry into the arms of his father, and that father gathering him to his breast and smothering him with kisses. How different was reality to fancy! He was too dazed by the suddenness of the discovery to do more than stare stupidly up at his father, who drew him gently to him and kissed him on the forehead.
Then he heard his father tell his grandmother about the bull, and Mrs. Egerton said:
'What possessed you to do such a naughty thing as to go out on the high-road alone, Bobby? You might have been killed, and we should not have known where you were. What made you do it?'
Bobby looked up at his grandmother with big frightened eyes.
'I went to meet my father,' he faltered.
Mr. Allonby gave a short laugh; his grandmother looked quite horrified.
'You know that is an untruth,' she said. 'Your father must be quite shocked to hear you.'
Bobby did not attempt to defend himself. His under lip quivered, and in his small heart was a passionate desire to prove himself innocent of a lie.
His eyes turned to his father, who was looking down upon him with a strange gravity, but though he wanted to speak he could not.
'Never mind,' his father said cheerfully, 'he did meet me, and I cannot yet take in the strange coincidence of it. If I hadn't come by when I did—— Well, it does not bear thinking about. Did you know you had a father living, Bobby? For your grandmother seems to have thought I was dead. I suppose my long silence has seemed inexcusable, but I am positive that I wrote twice after your daughter's death, Mrs. Egerton, and to neither letter received any reply. Then I went off with an exploring party through South America, and have been out of touch with civilisation for the past five years. Last summer I took up life again in Canada, and only came home three months ago. I have been ill two months of that time.'
There was silence. Bobby felt uncomfortable; why, he did not know. His father looked at him again and sighed.
'Well, I see he is cared for, Mrs. Egerton, and had better fall in with your wishes. My wife——'
'Your present wife need not be brought into our discussion.'
Mr. Allonby rose to his feet, for Mrs. Egerton's words were bitter and proud.
'I'll see the boy once again before I leave this part, and now I'll wish you good afternoon.'
'I'm coming with you, Father.'
Bobby's voice rang out eagerly, expectantly. He had not a doubt but that he would be taken away at once.
His father looked at him astonished, then smiled and shook his head.
'Oh no, my boy; you belong to your grandmother, not to me. I hear you are going to school soon. I dare say you will find some boys there who will be as hard to tackle as a run-away bull.'
At this juncture Bobby's aunt entered the room, and the little boy slipped away unnoticed to the hall. His small soul was full of agonised dismay and bewilderment. Was this to be the end of all his hopes and expectations? His father did not want him; he said he did not belong to him. This last assertion was like a stab. Bobby stood looking out of the front door, which was open, into the sunny garden beyond, and there the sight of his father's small motor standing puffing away upon the drive filled him suddenly with a desperate resolve.
'I won't be left behind. I will go with father. I don't belong to this old House. I don't belong to grandmother. I belongs to him for ever and ever. Amen!'
He darted down the steps towards the motor. Then a fear smote him. The little girl. Who was she? Where was she? But the motor was empty, there was no sign of her. He climbed into the car, and in another moment was safely tucked out of sight under the seat. He had been accustomed to hide in out of the way corners in his grandmother's part of the house. He had often, when making secret excursions on his own account, been nearly surprised by the 'grown-ups.' Sometimes he had lain almost breathless under a chintz-covered couch, or crouched behind a curtain till the moment of danger was past. His whole soul was in revolt against his father's decision. He pitifully thought that if only he explained things to his father, if only he was granted a fair hearing, without feeling the cold disapproving gaze of his grandmother upon him, he might win his case.
So he lay, grasping Nobbles tightly in agony lest he should be discovered and dragged out of his hiding-place. It seemed hours to him before he heard his father's voice and step, and his parting words to his aunt, who had accompanied him to the hall door, were not reassuring.
'I must see him once again before leaving this part; but I'm quite satisfied that you can do better for him than I can.'
Then he jumped into his car, and in a moment they were gliding down the drive and out upon the high-road. A little exultant feeling came to Bobby when they were once away and going at full speed. His heart thumped loudly; he was extremely uncomfortable and dared not change his position, but he could not help whispering to Nobbles in triumph:
'We're on, Nobbles, and we never will go back to the House again.'
It did not seem very long before the car stopped. Bobby heard men's voices talking, but he did not move until his father had left the car. Then he peeped out and saw him going into the principal hotel of the market town. When he had disappeared through the door Bobby crept from his hiding-place, and, strangely enough, though there were two or three ostlers standing by, he escaped observation. He was very disappointed to find they were no farther away, for he dreaded being taken back to his grandmother again. Then his natural hopefulness came to his aid.
'Father will keep me when I tells him how I want him; and if he tells me to go home I'll come out and hide under the seat. Me and Nobbles don't mean to leave him now we've found him.'
He pushed the hotel door open, but there was no sign of his father. Nothing disconcerted, Bobby opened every door he saw and peeped inside the rooms, and when he did not find him downstairs, he climbed upstairs.
And at last he was successful. In a comfortable sitting-room his father was just in the act of drawing an easy-chair to the window, and the little girl was by his side.
'Did you see him, dad?' she was asking eagerly. 'Did you see your own little boy? And what was he like? Do tell me.'
Mr. Allonby dropped into his seat with a heavy sigh.
'Not a bit like his mother, True. Very like what I was at his age, I'm afraid.'
'I belongs to you, father.'
Bobby could keep silence no longer. Decision and some reproach was in his tone. His father started from his chair as if he had been shot. The little girl laughed and clapped her hands.
'You brought him as a s'prise, dad. You brought him to play with me!'
'On my honour I didn't, True. It's some magic, I think. Come here my boy. How on earth did you get here?'
Bobby marched up to his father. He wanted to show what a man he was, but his lips quivered, and his hand grasping Nobbles quivered too.
'I comed in your carriage under the seat. I didn't tell an untroof. I did walk out on the road to meet you. I've been waiting years andyearsfor you to come for me.'
Then his self-control gave way; he grasped hold of his father's coat and burst into tears.
In an instant his father had lifted him upon his knee, and that was Bobby's happy moment. He tried to check his sobs.
'I belongs to you; I don't want to go back to the House nevermore; me and Nobbles have come to stay.'
Mr. Allonby put his hand on the curly head that was now burrowing itself into his waistcoat pocket.
'This is quite a surprise to me, my sonny. Bobby you're called, are you not? Aren't you happy with your grandmother?'
'I belongs to you,' Bobby repeated pitifully. 'I knewed you would come for me one day.Everyday I've expecked you. I told Master Mortimer you couldn't be lost. I knewed you couldn't.'
He raised his face to his father's now, triumphantly, trustingly, and that look decided his fate. 'You do belong to me, Bobby, and we'll find a corner for you somewhere; but I mustn't kidnap you in this fashion. I'll take you back to your grandmother, and talk to her about it. She'll be alarmed about you.'
Bobby began to cry again in an agitated fashion.
'I can't go back! Me and Nobbles won't! If you take me back I'll be punished. The House doesn't want me; and Nurse can come and live with us, father; she'll understand. She know's how I've been looking for youeveryday.'
'But what made you look for me? Who put such an idea in your head?'
Bobby stopped his tears to consider, and a slow smile spread over his face.
'I reely believe it was Nobbles,' he said, holding up his stick to his father admiringly. 'It was ever so many years ago,' he added hastily. 'Me and Nobbles have always talked about you coming to fetch me away one day. I fink it was Nobbles who told me first.'
Mr. Allonby gazed at his little son with a comical look of dismay. Then he put him down from his knees and took a few quick turns up and down the room. At last he turned to the little girl, who was staring at Bobby in silence.
'I want your mother's advice, True; she says I am always making blunders. I think I'll send a note back to Bobby's grandmother, and instead of staying here the night we'll motor straight back to mother and ask her what we had better do. We'll take Bobby with us. I don't know whether that will be right though. I'm afraid you ought to go back, little chap.'
Mr. Allonby looked very much worried. Bobby shook his head emphatically.
'Me and Nobbles couldn't never go back. We belongs to you.'
'Oh, bring him to mother, dad. She'll love him; he looks so lovely. And isn't he very like that little boy who got nearly tossed with a bull yesterday?'
'He's the same; that's the extraordinary thing. Yes, I'll send the note, and we'll take him along to mother. His grandmother can send for him from there if she wants him.'
Mr. Allonby walked to a writing-table and began to write a letter in furious haste.
True put out her little fingers and stroked Bobby's velvet sleeve.
'What a nice coat you've got on!'
Boy-like, Bobby did not think much of his clothes.
'Who are you?' he asked curiously.
'Dad's little girl.'
'Father has no one but me,' said Bobby, with scarlet cheeks. 'I'm his own proper boy.'
'Yes,' said True meekly, 'I know you are. I don't think I'm quite a proper child, because my own father is dead, but dad is my next one, and mother's myveryown. She doesn't belong to you at all, only tome.'
The relationship puzzled Bobby, and did not altogether please him. He had been so accustomed to think of himself and his father quite alone, that this little girl and her mother seemed quite unnecessary.
Conversation languished between them until Mr. Allonby had finished his note; then he left the room, found a messenger to take it at once, and then for the next ten minutes all was bustle and confusion getting ready for the return journey.
'If we are quick we shall get home by nine o'clock, True,' Mr. Allonby said as he wrapped a heavy rug round Bobby and tucked him in by his side in the car.
Five minutes afterwards they were going swiftly up the high-road. To Bobby it all seemed a dream. He grasped Nobbles tightly, but no fear assailed him. He had prepared himself too long for the possibility of going off with an unknown father to be much disturbed now.
And the strangeness of his journey fascinated him. True on one side of him, his father on the other—both strangers to him a few hours ago. They passed in the dusk the identical spot where he had stood confronting the bull that same afternoon. It seemed to be a year ago. True looked out as they passed, rather sleepily.
'That's where dad charged the bull! Oh, it was horrid! I thought we were going to be smashed up!'
Bobby snuggled closer to his father's side, and Mr. Allonby said shortly:
'We won't think any more about that, True.'
It grew darker as they flew along; trees by the roadside began to turn black and grim. A belt of pinewood looked as if it contained a band of robbers ready to spring out upon any unlucky passer-by.
The light from their lamps seemed to cast strange shadows across the road. They passed through two or three villages where the lights from the cottage windows looked to Bobby like fallen stars. True soon went to sleep, but the small boy sat looking out with wide awe-stricken eyes. He had never been out at night before, and everything he saw was absorbing. Mr. Allonby did not speak. He was very doubtful as to whether he had acted wisely in taking Bobby off in such a fashion, and was more than half inclined to turn back and hand him over to his grandmother again. He looked down upon him with a mixture of affection and anxiety. At last, meeting the steadfast gaze of two bright brown eyes, he said:
'Well, what do you think of your father, Bobby?'
'You aren't the same as I finked about,' responded the child readily.
'Tell me how I am different.'
'I finked you would be a big man with a black beard, who would take me to live in a cave in the mountains, or fight with the Red Ingines. Nurse's brother said he expecked you would be like that.'
'You want a life of adventure and travel!'
Mr. Allonby's eyes sparkled, though he was staring in front of him and making his car go beyond the limited speed at this juncture.
'Then you're a proper son of mine, Bobby, and I won't let you go. We'll do some travels together.'
And we'll leave the little girl at home,' suggested Bobby.
His father laughed aloud.
'True? Bless her heart! Do you know where I first met her, Bobby? Careering on a wild prairie; run away on a half-broken colt, and been lost for two days; and when I took her back to her mother——'
He stopped and smiled to himself in the darkness.
'Ah, well! That was a good day in my life, and better ones followed. No, you and True must be friends. Truant is her name by rights, for her mother never could keep her indoors or at home. Now, Bobby, look ahead! Do you see those lights? We go through the town; and just outside is our home—a very tiny one at present, for we move about; but we'll find a corner for you.'
He slackened speed. Slowly they passed through the streets of an old-fashioned cathedral town. Soon the houses became more scarce, and at last they came to a standstill before an iron gate in a wall. True woke up, and she and Bobby were bundled out.
'Go up to the door; I'll take the car into the shed and join you.'
True pulled Bobby after her up a narrow gravel path. It was dark, but there was a sweet smell of mignonette and of roses. Bobby was dimly conscious of two old-fashioned borders of flowers edging their path. A light shone out of a casement window on the ground floor which was open. True ran up to it and put her head in.
'We're back, motherums, and we've brought dad's little boy with us.'
Then she thumped impatiently upon the door till it was opened by an oldish woman.
'Now, Miss True, be quiet; and who's this without a hat?'
'I'm going to take him to Mother, Margot. Let us pass.'
The tiny hall seemed almost like a doll's house to Bobby. He hung back; sudden shyness seized him.
'I think I'll wait for my father,' he said.
True released his hand, and dashed into the front room. Margot looked down upon him in puzzled wonder, but a step outside made her smile.
'Ah! Here's the master,' she murmured; and Mr. Allonby's hand was upon Bobby's shoulder the next instant.
'Now, little chap, come and see your new mother.'
Bobby's eyes blinked nervously at his father's words. A 'new mother' had never been in his calculations at all. A mother of any sort meant very little to him; he had never come across one, and vaguely put them in the same category as his grandmother and aunt. He clung hold of his father's hand tightly, and then the door was opened, and Bobby's brain received the first impression of cosy warmth and comfort, which never faded from him in after-life. The room was small compared with his grandmother's rooms, but, oh! so different. There was a tiny fire blazing in the grate, a little black-and-white terrier lay basking on the hearthrug, a lamp in a corner of the room, covered by a rose-coloured shade, shed its light on a pretty pink and white chintz couch underneath it, and upon this couch, leaning back amongst pink cushions, was Bobby's stepmother. True was already sitting upon a footstool, and her head was in her lap, her mother was stroking back her hair gently and tenderly. Mrs. Allonby looked to most people a mere laughing high-spirited girl, with wonderful black hair and mischievous face and eyes, but that was generally the side she showed to outsiders. To her husband and child there was deep, never-dying love in her looks and tones; and Bobby caught a glimpse of this, small boy as he was, when she turned her face towards her husband.
'Come along, wanderer, and confess! Have you been guilty of stealing, and where is your prize? Oh, what a little darling!'
She opened her arms to Bobby, and True made way for him. Bobby found himself smothered with kisses; he was shy no longer, for he felt the atmosphere of love around him.
Standing, with his hand in his stepmother's, he heard his father telling his story, and all the time his eyes were roaming round the room taking everything in with admiration and delight. There was a canary in a cage, a globe of goldfish, bowls of pink and white roses, pictures and books, comfortable easy-chairs, and in the corner a delicious-looking table, spread with a white cloth and shining silver, with a large dish of strawberries in the centre, a junket, and a rich-looking plum-cake. Then his eyes came back to his stepmother. She was clad in a white gown, but a crimson wrapper round her seemed to match in colour the roses pinned to her breast, and her cheeks vied with them in hue.
'And so you have kidnapped your own little son! And he himself helped you to do it! How can you leave your dear old granny, my boy? She has loved you and cared for you all these years. Is it kind to run away from her?'
Bobby looked up wonderingly.
'I couldn't never be kind to grandmother,' he said; 'she wouldn't like it. And it's only fathers who love anybodies; Nurse told me they always did.'
'And not mothers? Ah! you poor little atom, I forgot that you have not known your mother.'
'How's the back?' asked Mr. Allonby, looking at his wife with a smile.
'Oh! very good to-day; I've been following you in thought all the time. You see, Bobby, I have to lie here on my back, and my truant and wanderer go out to seek adventures, and come back and amuse me by telling me all they have seen and heard. Then I mend them up, and send them out again, and that's how we spend our life.'
'Motherums hasn't always lived on her back,' put in True eagerly. 'She used to gallop everywhere on a lov-elly black horse till she got her fall. That was a dre'fful day!'
'So "dre'fful" that we will never talk of it,' said Mrs. Allonby quickly. 'Now, True, darling, take Bobby to Margot, and she will get a comfy bed for him in dad's dressing-room. And when he is quite tucked up in it he shall have a basin of bread and milk and go fast asleep till to-morrow morning, for I'm sure it is long past his proper bedtime.'
Bobby looked longingly towards the table, and Mrs. Allonby noted it.
'That is for father only; he is going to have some hot meat directly; but I think he can spare you six strawberries. True, you can have six too. Bring a plate over here and eat them together.'
So the two children sat down on the rug together, and Bobby felt he would like to stay there all night. But a little later, when he was going upstairs to bed, he felt very sleepy, and his head had not been upon his pillow for five minutes before he was fast asleep.
He was wakened the next morning by True's voice.
'Oh, do wake up! We've had breakfast already. And oh! you funny boy, you've got your walking-stick in bed with you.'
Bobby resented her tone.
'It isn't a stick, it's Nobbles,' he said. 'Me and Nobbles always sleep together.'
He fingered Nobbles' red cap lovingly, then held him out for True's inspection.
'He comed from over the sea. He's really alive, though he never speaks; but he finks a lot, and whispers to me, but nobody but me can hear him.'
True gazed at Nobbles' smiling face with fascination.
'What does he tell you?' she asked.
Bobby's slow smile came.
'He told me last night he liked this house very much; and—he ran away from me in the night—he very often does—he goes up the chimleys, and the wind takes him journeys. He went to the House to see how Nurse was getting on.'
'Did he? To your grandmother's house? What did she say?'
Bobby considered.
'She said to Nurse, "I reely can't be troubled with the child, Nurse; it's your place to look after him."'
'And what did your nurse say?'
'She wented down to the kitchen and ate some apple tart. And then Nobbles said he came away "'cause nobody wanted me back," and I'm never going to leave my father no more!'
'Dad is going to see your grandmother now. Motherums told him he ought to. Do get up and come and see my rabbits. Oh! Here is Margot!'
Margot appeared with a breakfast tray, and Bobby lay still and ate an egg and some bread and butter with relish.
'The mistress said you was not to be called, for you were tired out,' said Margot, by way of explanation. 'And when you've had your bath, and dressed, you can go to her room and see her. Can you dress yourself?'
'I'm nearly sure I can,' said Bobby bravely.
But he was forced to let Margot assist him more than once; and when ready at last, paused before leaving the room, looking up into her face with a little uncertainty and doubt.
'Do you think they'll all like me here?' he said.
'Bless the child, this be a real home to everyone, though it be small. I've been with the mistress for twenty years. She were a wild slip of a girl when I took service out in 'Merica. She lost her mother when she were eight, and I mothered her after, for her father were a proper ne'er-do-weel, and were always moving from one ranch to another. Miss Helen took after her mother, and got everyone's love. And then her father got her to marry a rich old settler, so that some of his debts might be paid, and he died within a twelvemonth of the marriage, and Miss Helen kept the property together and did for her father till he broke his neck riding an unbroken horse, and Miss True was all the bit of comfort she had left. She could have married over and over scores of times; but not she; till Mr. Allonby found Miss True one day and brought her home, and then I knew how things would end. And when she would gallop off with him on her big horse, with her laugh and jest, I little thought she'd ever live to lie on her back and never move again.'
The old woman paused. Bobby had not been following her. He only repeated the question, which was an all-important one to him:
'Will they be sure to like me?'
'The mistress has the biggest heart in the world, my dear, and the master never says a cross word to nobody!'
Bobby felt cheered by her tone, and his doubts utterly vanished when he was held in the close clasp of his stepmother.
'We are going to keep you, Bobby, and I must be prepared to see two small children go off every day with my Wanderer. We are going to make this summer a holiday, to build up and strengthen your father, who has been very ill, and next winter, if we are spared, we must all set to work in earnest. Lessons and school for the little ones, real hard writing for your father and me. Now, darling, True is calling to you from the garden. Run out to her, and the air and sunshine will bring colour into those pale cheeks of yours.'
'Me and Nobbles likes to be darlings,' Bobby informed True a short time afterwards. 'We aren't darlings with Nurse or grandmother.'
When his father returned, Bobby approached him, almost trembling to hear his fate.
'Well, little chap,' Mr. Allonby said, 'it has been rather a stormy scene, but I've got you for good and all. And if I had known your grandmother considered children such a trouble I never would have left you with her all this time. Your nurse is going to drive over this afternoon and wish you good-bye. She will bring your clothes. Do you think you will get on with us without a nurse? We are very poor folk, you know, until I write this big book of travels that is going to bring us fame and money, and then—well, you ask True what will happen.'
Bobby smiled contentedly. Things had not turned out quite according to his expectations, but he was well pleased to have a little playfellow in True, and though she adopted a slightly superior and motherly air with him, she was a deferential listener to any of Nobbles' exploits. She had no difficulty in believing that he was alive; in fact she was quite ready to explain his existence in a manner quite new to Bobby.
'You see,' she said, 'a wicked fairy must have turned him into a stick. He really was a very brave good prince, but he set free a beautiful princess, who had been a prisoner in the wicked fairy's house, and the way he did it was dressing in her clothes and staying behind while she put on his and rode away. Then the wicked fairy was so angry when she found out the trick that she turned him into a stick and said he must stay like it till someone broke the spell.'
'What's a spell?' asked Bobby.
'Oh, there are lots of spells. The sleeping beauty was in one, you know. The spell was that she would sleep till a prince kissed her. What we've got to do is to find out the spell for Nobbles, and when we do the right thing to him he'll wake up, and come alive, and be a prince again.'
Bobby thought over this with a perplexed brow.
'But then he might ride away from me to find the princess, and I should be 'fraid of a grand prince. I like Nobbles best like he is!'
'Oh, but wouldn't you like him to be able to run about and take off his little red cap and bow? He wouldn't be any bigger you know; he comes from a country where they are all very tiny, and perhaps he will have forgotten all about the princess and will like to stay with you best.'
'I'll ask him to-night when we're in bed all about it. He'll be sure to tell me.'
And Bobby's face brightened at the thought. After all, Nobbles belonged to him, not to True, and if he didn't choose him to be a prince he need not be one.
Bobby's interview with Nurse was rather a trying one. He could hardly understand why he should be blamed.
'You knewed my father would come one day, Nurse. I had been expecking him every day, and of course I belongs to him, and I had to go after him. I was so 'fraid I might lose him again. And I can go all over father's house and sit in every room, and I've got a new mother and a little girl to play with, and they calls me "darling!"'
Then Nurse astonished him by clasping him in her arms and bursting into tears.
'I never thought you'd have left me. I've been as fond of you as if you'd been my own child. It's put me terrible about, losing you so sudden. Why, I meant to stay with you till you went to school.'
Bobby began to get tearful at once. He had a tender little heart, and to see Nurse cry was a great calamity. He was honestly sorry to part with her; but his father filled his heart, and, childlike, the new scenes and life around him were entirely engrossing him.
When Nurse had gone he was called to his father, who was sitting with his stepmother. True was still playing in the garden.
'I feel I must make acquaintance with my small son,' Mr. Allonby said, perching him on his knee.
'How is it you have thought such a lot about me?'
'I always knewed you would be nice,' said Bobby, with a slow shake of his head. 'I knewed fathers were.'
'How many fathers have you known?'
'Only God,' said Bobby, simply and reverently. 'He is my other Father, isn't He? And He's always good and kind to me.'
Mr. Allonby exchanged glances with his wife.
'You are a little character, I see. Tell me more. Are you a very good little boy?'
'Nurse says no boys are ever good,' said Bobby, not seeing the twinkle in his father's eye. 'I s'pose when I get to be a father I shall be.'
Mr. Allonby began to laugh. His wife shook her head at him.
Bobby knitted his brows, then turned questioner.
'Did you fink I would be like what I am, father?'
His tone was anxious. He added hurriedly:
'I'm not a baby now, I can walk miles and miles, and I'm going to dress myself all alone to-morrow.'
'That's right. I want my son to be plucky and independent and honourable. If you're that sort I shall be quite satisfied. What do you say, Helen?'
Mrs. Allonby looked at Bobby rather tenderly.
'I don't think he needs to be very independent yet,' she said.
'What does it mean?' asked Bobby. 'And what does honourable mean? It's plucky when you hurt yourself and don't cry, isn't it?'
'Independent is doing things for yourself and standing alone. Honourable is everything a gentleman ought to be—truthful, honest, and straight, with right thoughts about everything. I think you're plucky. You're not afraid of anything, I hope.'
Bobby did not answer for a minute. He had heard enough to fill his small brain with fresh thought.
'I'm not afraid of anybody if I have Nobbles with me,' he said.
His father laughed again, then put him off his knee.
'I have letters to write. Run away now and play with True.'
So Bobby went, revolving many things in his mind. And an hour later, when he was getting tired of romping with True, he sat down on the grass underneath an apple-tree.
'I like Nobbles to be good,' he confided to True; 'but I'm 'fraid he can't be ind'pendent. He's plucky, he's afraid of nobody, and loves to give anyone a good beating; and he's quite, quite straight, so he's hon'rable, but he can't stand alone, or do things for himself.'
'Can't he? You give him to me. I'll make him stand up.'
True had seized hold of Nobbles and stuck him triumphantly two inches into the ground, where he stood smiling at them.
Bobby did not approve of this treatment.
'You're not to touch him. He doesn't belong to you.'
'He's only a stick!'
True's tone was scornful. For the first time Bobby began to feel angry with her.
'He's my Nobbles, and I like him much better than you.'
He hugged his stick and walked off. True pursued him.
'He's only a stick,' she repeated. 'I could break him in half if I tried!'
'You're a horrid girl, and I wish my father would send you away. You don't belong to him and me at all!'
'You don't belong to us!' cried True excitedly. 'Dad and me always goes out together, and we'll leave you behind. We don't want you at all. We was ever so happy before you came. You'd better go back to that old House of yours. We don't want you!'
It takes so little to make a quarrel. Fiery little True rushed into her mother in a passion of tears, declaring that she hated Bobby and would never play with him again; and Bobby was found some minutes later by Margot lying face downwards in the garden crying as if his heart would break.
'I'll never be happy again. She says I don't belong here,' he sobbed.
Peace was made at last, for Margot took him straight into Mrs. Allonby, who talked to both children as only she could talk, lovingly, gently, but very firmly. When girl and boy were both safely tucked away in bed that night, she said to her husband:
'Oh, Frank, shall we have a divided house?'
'Never!' he said cheerfully. 'Both these youngsters have had things their own way. Now they will have to give and take, and it will do them each a power of good.'
She smiled, and her anxious look disappeared.
'If we are of one mind it will be easy,' she said.
And her husband replied:
'Your mind and will rule this household, darling. I shall leave my boy's training to you.'
'They look like the gates in the City.'
Bobby and True were lying upon the grass under a shady group of trees. They had been out motoring with their father all the morning, and had stopped to have their lunch up a by-road. They had had a merry meal, and then after it was over Mr. Allonby told them they had better stay where they were whilst he took his motor back to the neighbouring village to get some slight repairs done to it.
'It is very warm, so stay here quietly, and don't wander far from this place, or I shall not find you again.'
He went. For a short time they amused themselves quietly by the roadside. Then they thought they would like to see where the road took them, and walked up it until suddenly they were stopped by some very tall white iron gates. They peeped through the bars of them. There was a small lodge inside, but there seemed no one about. A long, broad, beautifully-kept drive went straight up to a white, turreted house in the distance. It looked almost like a castle. They tried to open the gates, but they were locked. Then they threw themselves down upon the grass outside, and Bobby thoughtfully said, as he eyed the gates in front of them:
'They look like the gates in the City.'
'What city?' asked True.
'It's a Bible city. Do you know about the gates kept by angels? They lead up to heaven, and the road is just like that in there, only there are people walking up them in white dresses. We shall have to get frough them some day.
'It'll be very nice,' said True comfortably.
Bobby looked at her, and his mouth pursed itself up gravely.
'Everybodies don't get frough. Some are shut outside.'
'Oh! Why?'
'Because they haven't white dresses on. My grandmother has a beautiful Bible with beautiful picshers in it, and the picsher of the lovely gates says: "Blessed are they that wash their robes in the blood of the Lamb, that they may have right to the tree of life, and enter in frough the gates into the City." I learnt that tex'. Lady Isobel teached it to me.'
'What's the tree of life?' asked True.
Bobby pointed inside the gate to a big beech-tree halfway up the drive.
'It's like that, but it has lovely golden apples on it. And the angels stand at the gate, and won't let nobody frough with a dirty dress.'
True glanced at her brown holland frock, which was smeared with green.
'My frocks never keep clean after half an hour,' she said with a little sigh.
'You have to get a nice white frock from Jesus,' went on Bobby, pleased with his role as teacher.
'He washes your dirty one in His blood. You know, when He died on the cross, that's how He shed His blood. And it turns all dirty things white and clean. Lady Is'bel teached me it did.'
'I don't believe Jesus Christ really washes frocks,' said True. 'I've never heard He does. It would be—be like a washerwoman.'
Bobby leant across to her eagerly.
'You don't un'stand prop'ly. It's a inside white frock over our hearts. Nobody sees it but Jesus and the angels at the gate—and God. Our hearts are quite dirty and black till we ask Jesus to wash them and put the white dress on. Why, I had mine done long ago—d'reckly I heard 'bout it. You ought to have yours. You'll never get inside the gates if you don't, and it would be quite dre'fful to be shut out.
'When is it?' asked True, deliberating.
'When is what?'
'The gates being opened.'
'I think it's when you die, you want to get frough,' said Bobby.
'Then I can wait till I die!' said True.
'What a silly girl you are!'
Bobby's tone was almost contemptuous.
'I'm not silly.'
'Yes you are. Fancy waiting when you can have it now. Why, you might die in a hurry, and then Jesus might be doing something else, and mightn't come to you in time. I'm all ready now. The tex' says I've arightto go in at the gatesnow, if I wanted to.'
He stopped talking, for up the lane came a carriage, and it stopped at the gates.
Both the children sprang to their feet. They saw a woman in a white apron hurry out from the lodge and open the gate; they saw the carriage pass through and the gates close again. Then Bobby spoke very solemnly:
'Did you see who was in the carriage? A lady in awhitedress, and she had arightto pass frough.'
'You are a funny boy,' said True with a little laugh. 'She belonged to the house, and she's just going home.'
'Well,' argued Bobby, 'I belong to the golden City, and I shall have a right to go in—the tex' says so; and I shall be going home; because you know, True, God is my other Father, and God lives at home in heaven.'
There was silence, then True said:
'We had better go back to dad. I'll ask mother next Sunday about those gates, and see if you've told me true. She always talks good to me on Sunday afternoon.'
Bobby turned away from the white gates with reluctance.
'Would it be wicked to play at going in at those gates?' he asked. 'We might come another day by ourselves and try to get in.'
'So we will,' said True. 'It couldn't be wicked if we play what's in the Bible, because everything is good there.'
They returned to the spot where Mr. Allonby had arranged to meet them. He was just appearing along the road, and when they were tucked safely in the car again Bobby said:
'Who lives inside the big white gates up that road, father?'
'I don't know, my boy. I don't know this part of the country.'
'How far are we from home?' asked True.
'About twenty miles.'
The children sighed simultaneously. Then True said:
'We'll never get there, Bobby.'
'P'raps we shall pass some other white gates nearer home,' he suggested.
'Why do you want them?' asked their father.
Bobby laid his hand on his coat sleeve impressively.
'They're so like the gates into heaven, father.'
Mr. Allonby looked startled.
'Have you been there, sonny?'
'No; but I've seen them in a picsher.'
'Well?'
'I was splaning to True about them.'
Bobby was a wee bit shy of his father. He could not talk quite freely to him yet. He was so terribly afraid of being laughed at, and Mr. Allonby was not good at hiding his amusement at some of his son's quaint speeches.
'It's kind of Sunday talk,' put in True eagerly, 'about angels, and white dresses, and washing.'
'Ah!' said Mr. Allonby, 'then you must take your puzzles to the angel of our house. She will tell you all you want to know.'
'That's mother,' said True in a whisper to Bobby. 'She's father's angel. He is awful 'fraid she will get some wings and fly away one day.'
Other topics engrossed their small minds; but upon the next Sunday afternoon, when they were both sitting by Mrs. Allonby's sofa and she was giving them a Bible lesson out of her big Bible, True brought up the subject.
'Will you read us about the gates of heaven, mother? Bobby says he'll be let inside, and I shall be shut out.'
'No, I didn't.'
'Yes, you did.'
'We won't have any quarrelling. What do you want to hear about?'
'The gates,' said Bobby, 'the beautiful gates. It's the last page of the Bible. I know it is. Will you read, True, the tex' about having a right to enter? It begins, "Blessed——"'
Mrs. Allonby had no difficulty in finding it. She read very slowly.
'Blessed are they that do His commandments, that they may have right to the tree of life, and may enter in through the gates into the City.'
'There!' said True, 'it doesn't say anything about washing, Bobby.'
Bobby looked sorely perplexed.
'Lady Is'bel teached it to me out of the Talian Bible. "Blessed are they that wash their robes in the blood of the Lamb, that they may have right to the tree of life, and may enter in frough the gates into the City." That's my tex', I know it is.'
Mrs. Allonby smiled at his disconsolate face.
'It is another version, Bobby.'
'But isn't it true?' he questioned. 'You see it's so 'ticular to me, 'cause I've had my robe washed. I knows I have, and I thought I was quite ready to go in.'
'You're quite right, darling. Listen to this verse about the City. "There shall in no wise enter into it anything that defileth." No one can be allowed in if they are stained with sin, no dirt, no impurity. We must have had our hearts washed white before we can go in. Only Jesus can do this; but we must not think that is all we have to do. What makes our hearts dirty and black?'
'Being naughty,' said True.
'Yes. We must ask Jesus to help us do His commandments, so as to keep our hearts clean. The two go together; and it is very important they should. If Bobby says his heart is washed by Jesus, and then quarrels, and loses his temper and wants his own way, I shall know something is not right. Remember you must be washed, and you will want to be washed every day again and again, but you must try to keep clean by doing His commandments. Everyone you break leaves a stain upon your robe, and grieves your Saviour.'
'Oh dear, oh dear!' sighed Bobby, 'He'll get quite tired of me, I know He will. I think I'm much wickeder here than I was at grandmother's.'
'And I'm wickeder since you came to us,' said True, nodding her head at him. 'You do make me so awful angry by things you say!'
Bobby looked quite crushed.
'Isn't it quite certain I'll be let inside?' he asked.
Mrs. Allonby smiled.
'Thank God you can be quite certain of that, Bobby. It doesn't depend on what we do, but upon what Jesus did for us. Let me tell you a little story. Two little girls were going to be taken out to tea one afternoon with their mother. Their names were Nellie and Ada. They were dressed in clean white frocks, and told they might walk up and down the garden path till their mother joined them. "But don't go on the grass," she said, "or you may soil your frocks. It has been raining, and it is wet and muddy." For a short time they walked up and down the path as good as gold. Then Ada saw a frog hop away over the grass. She forgot her mother's command, and ran after it. The grass was slippery; she fell, and her clean frock was all smeared and spoilt by muddy streaks. Her mother came out and was very vexed. "Now, Ada, you will have to stay at home. I can't take you in a dirty frock. It will serve you right for being so disobedient." Ada cried and sobbed, and said she was sorry, and begged to be taken. But her mother said no. Then Nellie, who loved her sister, and was an unselfish little girl, said: "Mother, dear, do take Ada, she is so sorry; let me stay at home, and then she can wear my frock." At first the mother wouldn't hear of this, but Nellie begged so hard that at last she consented. Ada's dirty frock was taken off her and Nellie's clean one put on her. She went to the party and Nellie stayed at home. Now don't you think, as she walked along with her mother, that she would be very careful not to dirty Nellie's clean frock? I think she would be more careful than ever. Jesus Christ kept His robe pure and spotless. He never sinned at all, so His robe is put over us, and we can enter the gates. But oughtn't we to be very careful not to sin, just to show Him how we value our robe, how we love Him for being so kind and good to us?' Mrs. Allonby paused. Bobby nodded his head very solemnly at her.
'Me and Nobbles will 'member that story. I'll tell him it in bed. You know sometimes I make Nobbles do naughty things, but sometimes'—here the twinkle came into the brown eyes—'sometimes Nobbles puts naughty things in my head. He whispers them to me in bed.'
'That isn't Nobbles,' said True, in her downright fashion, 'that's the Devil, isn't it, motherums?'
'No,' asserted Bobby, 'it's Nobbles, all by himself. P'raps Satan may have whispered to him first. Shall I tell you what he wants me to do to-morrer?'
'Oh, do!' True's eagerness to hear Bobby's inventions got the better of her. Mrs. Allonby said nothing. She liked the children to talk freely before her, and she gained a good deal by being listener sometimes.
'You know those top pears on the wall whatwon'tfall down? Nobbles says if I get on a chair and reach up he'll hit them down, and then I can pick them up. We was finking about doing it first thing before breakfus' to-morrer!'
'But it would beyouthat would do it; and dad said we weren't to touch them unless they were on the ground.'
'It wouldn't be me, it would be Nobbles,' insisted Bobby. 'I couldn't reach up half so high.'
'Then if Nobbles does it,' said Mrs. Allonby, very quietly, 'I shall have to punish him. I shall shut him up in a cupboard for a whole day.'
Bobby looked quite frightened.
'Me and Nobbles have never been away from each other, never once!'
'Then I should take care he does nothing naughty. After all, Bobby, darling, he can't do anything unless you help him, can he?'
'No,' said Bobby slowly; 'and if him and me knocked those pears down it would make a black mark on my robe, wouldn't it!'
'Indeed it would!'
'Then we'll 'cidedly not do it,' said Bobby with emphasis. 'I'm going to try hard to be always good—for evermore!'
It needed hard trying, poor Bobby found, especially when he and True both wanted their own way at the same time, and they could not make those ways agree. But gradually they learnt lessons of forbearance and patience, and mutually helped each other to be unselfish.
One morning Bobby had a letter brought him by the postman. He turned it over with the greatest pride and interest. It had been redirected to him by his grandmother.
'I've never had a letter from anybody,' he said.
'Oh, be quick and open it,' urged True, dancing round him. 'All sorts of things happen when you get letters. It might be from the King, or from a fairy godmother, or a princess!'
Bobby's fingers trembled as he opened the envelope.
'P'raps,' continued True, who was never wanting for ideas, 'you've got a fortune left you, and a lot of money will tumble out.'
But it was only a letter, and though the writing was very clear and plain, Bobby begged his father to read it to him.
The children had breakfast with their father always. Mrs. Allonby did not leave her room till later in the morning.
Mr. Allonby read the letter through, and Bobby leant forward in his chair listening to it with open eyes and mouth.