“and besides he remembers how lonely he was when his own mother went away. Maybe we could bring him over to our house for a few days.”
“Yes, Mrs. Manily spoke of that,” said the matron, “and she had received permission from the Society to let Edward pay a visit to Mrs. Daniel Bobbsey. See, here is the card.”
“Oh, that will be lovely!” cried Nan, hugging Sandy as tight as her arms could squeeze.
“Freddie told us to be sure to bring you back with us.”
“I am so glad to get these things,” the matron said to Aunt Sarah, as she took the aprons, “for everybody has been upset with Mrs. Manily having to leave so suddenly. The aprons are lovely. Did the little girls make them?”
Aunt Sarah told her about the sewing school, and then she said she was going to have a little account printed about it in the year’s report of good work done for the Aid Society.
“And Mrs. Manily has written an account of your circus,” the matron told Harry and Bert, for she had heard about the boys and their successful charity work.
Some of the girls who knew Nan came up now and told her how Nellie, the little cash-girl, had been taken sick and had had to be removed to the hospital tent over in the other mountain.
This was sad news to Nan, for she loved the little cash-girl, and hoped to see her and perhaps have her pay a visit to Aunt Sarah’s.
“Is she very sick?” Aunt Sarah asked the matron.
“Yes indeed,” the other replied. “But the doctor will soon cure her, I think.”
“The child is too young to work so hard,” Aunt Sarah declared. “It is no wonder her health breaks down at the slightest cause, when she has no strength laid away to fight sickness.”
By this time a big girl had washed and dressed Sandy, and now what a pretty boy he was! He wore a blue-and-white-striped linen suit and had a jaunty little white cap just like Freddie’s.
He was so anxious to go that he jumped in the wagon before the others were ready to start.
“Get app, Bill!” he called, grabbing at the reins, and off the old horse started with no one in the wagon but Sandy!
Sandy had given the reins such a jerk that Bill started to run, and the more the little boy tried to stop him the harder he went!
“Don’t slap him with the reins!” called Harry, who was now running down the hill as hard as he could after the wagon. “Pull on the reins!” he called again.
But Sandy was so excited he kept slapping the straps up and down on poor Bill, which to the horse, of course, meant to go faster.
“He’ll drive in the brook,” called Bert in alarm also rushing after the runaway. “Whoa, Bill! whoa, Bill!” called everybody, the children from the camp having now joined in following the wagon.
The brook was directly in front of Sandy.
“Quick, Harry!” yelled Bert. “You’ll get him in a minute.”
It was no easy matter, however, to overtake Sandy, for the horse had been on a run from the start. But Sandy kept his seat well, and even seemed to think it good fun now to have everybody running after him and no one able to catch him.
“Oh, I’m so afraid he’ll go in the pond!” Nan told Aunt Sarah almost in tears.
“Bill would sit down first,” declared Aunt Sarah, who knew her horse to be an intelligent animal.
“Oh! oh! oh!” screamed everybody, for the horse had crossed from the road into the little field that lay next the water.
“Whoa, Bill!” shouted Aunt Sarah at the top of her voice, and instantly the horse stood still.
The next minute both Bert and Harry were in the wagon beside Sandy.
“Can’t I drive?” asked the little fellow innocently, while Harry was backing out of the swamp.
“You certainly made Bill go,” Harry admitted, all out of breath from running.
“And you gave us a good run too,” added Bert, who was red in the face from his violent exercise.
“Bill knew ma meant it when she said whoa!” Harry remarked to Bert. “I tell you, he stopped just in time, for a few feet further would have sunk horse, wagon, and all in the swamp.”
Of course it was all an accident, for Sandy had no idea of starting the horse off, so no one blamed him when they got back to the road.
“We’ll all get in this time,” laughed Aunt Sarah to the matron. “And I’ll send the boys over Sunday to let you know how Sandy is.”
“Oh, he will be all right with Freddie!” Bert said, patting the little stranger on the shoulders. “We will take good care of him.”
It was a pleasant ride back to the Bobbsey farm, and all enjoyed it—especially Sandy, who had gotten the idea he was a first-class driver and knew all about horses, old Bill, in particular.
“Hurrah! hurrah!” shouted Freddie, when the wagon turned in the drive. “I knowed you would come, Sandy!” and the next minute the two little boys were hand in hand running up to the barn to see Frisky, Snoop, the chickens, ducks, pigeons, and everything at once.
Sandy was a little city boy and knew nothing about real live country life, so that everything seemed quite wonderful to him, especially the chickens and ducks. He was rather afraid of anything as big as Frisky.
Snoop and Fluffy were put through their circus tricks for the stranger’s benefit, and then Freddie let Sandy turn on his trapeze up under the apple tree and showed him all the different kinds of turns Bert and Harry had taught the younger twin how to perform on the swing.
“How long can you stay?” Freddie asked his little friend, while they were swinging.
“I don’t know,” Sandy replied vaguely.
“Maybe you could go to the seashore with us,” Freddie ventured. “We are only going to stay in the country this month.”
“Maybe I could go,” lisped Sandy, “’cause nobody ain’t got charge of me now. Mrs. Manily has gone away, you know, and I don’t b’lieve in the other lady, do you?”
Freddie did not quite understand this but he said “no” just to agree with Sandy.
“And you know the big girl, Nellie, who always curled my hair without pulling it,—she’s gone away too, so maybe I’m your brother now,” went on the little orphan.
“Course you are!” spoke up Freddie manfully, throwing his arms around the other, “You’re my twin brother too, ’cause that’s the realest kind. We are all twins, you know—Nan and Bert, and Flossie and me and you!”
By this time the other Bobbseys had come out to welcome Sandy. They thought it best to let Freddie entertain him at first, so that he would not be strange, but now Uncle Daniel just took the little fellow up in his arms and into his heart, for all good men love boys, especially when they are such real little men as Sandy and Freddie happened to be.
“He’s my twin brother, Uncle Daniel,” Freddie insisted. “Don’t you think he’s just like me curls and all?”
“He is certainly a fine little chap!” the uncle replied, meaning every word of it, “and he is quite some like you too. Now let us feed the chickens. See how they are around us expecting something to eat?”
The fowls were almost ready to eat the pearl buttons off Sandy’s coat, so eager were they for their meal, and it was great fun for the two little boys to toss the corn to them.
“Granny will eat from your hand,” exclaimed Uncle Daniel, “You see, she is just like granite-gray stone, but we call her Granny for short.”
The Plymouth Rock hen came up to Sandy,