Me and Nobbles Part 14

'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, n.o.bbles 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 G.o.d,' 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 n.o.bbles 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 gra.s.s underneath an apple-tree.

'I like n.o.bbles to be good,' he confided to True; 'but I'm 'fraid he can't be ind'pendent. He's plucky, he's afraid of n.o.body, 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 n.o.bbles 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 n.o.bbles, 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 pa.s.sion 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.