Me and Nobbles | Page 9

come to you, not you go to him.'
'But,' said Bobby pitifully, 'he never comes, and I'm tireder and tireder
of waiting.'
'You go to sleep, and perhaps you'll dream where your father is.
Dreams are rummy things, and Nobbles is wanting his sleep, I know.'
Bobby was deposited in bed with his beloved stick, and his eyelids
began to droop at once. In a minute or two, worn out with his
excitement and consequent depression, he was fast asleep.
His uncle picked up his masquerading attire and left the room
muttering, 'I never will play the fool again; it doesn't pay.'
A day or two after this his Uncle Mortimer departed. Bobby was very
unhappy at losing him, for uncle and nephew were close friends, and

not a day passed without their spending some of it together. The uncle
promised to look for Bobby's father and send him to him as quickly as
possible, and the child's hopes rose high, and he firmly believed that his
father's return home would be hastened.
Upon the morning that his uncle left, Bobby's grandmother called him
to her when she came into the nursery for her usual visit.
'I want to speak to you,' she said, putting on her gold spectacles and
sitting down in Nurse's easy chair.
Bobby stood before her, his hands clasped behind his back.
'Are you not happy with us?' was the question put to him next, a little
sharply.
'Yes, gran'ma.'
'Who has been talking to you about your father?'
Bobby was silent.
'Answer me, child.'
'I dunno--Master Mortimer.'
'Do you mean your Uncle Mortimer? He has only just come here. You
have some absurd fancy in your head about your father fetching you
away from us.'
'Yes, gran'ma.'
'It is quite ridiculous. Your father would not think of doing such a thing.
You have been given over to me entirely, and he doesn't trouble about
you in the least. I expect he forgets that he has a son. Do you
understand me?'
'Yes, gran'ma.'

'I am only telling you this for your good. The sooner you stop thinking
about such a foolish thing the better.'
'Yes, gran'ma.'
'You ought to be a very happy grateful little boy. You have a kind nurse
and a comfortable home, and everything to satisfy you. Soon you will
be going to school, and I hope you will try to grow up a credit to us.'
'Yes, gran'ma.'
'Can't you say anything but "yes"?'
Mrs. Egerton's tone was a little impatient.
'I don't know nothing but "yes" to speak,' faltered Bobby, hanging his
head.
'You seem to have talked fast enough to your uncle.'
Mrs. Egerton regarded him closely for a minute. Bobby began to feel
more and more uncomfortable. Then his grandmother got up with a
little sigh.
'You are not a bit like your mother; you are an Allonby all over. Now
don't let me hear any more of this nonsense! Your home is with me; we
never talk to you about your father, because we do not even know if he
is alive. He has never written or taken the slightest interest in you after
your poor mother sent you to us.'
She got up and rustled out of the room. Bobby looked after her
perplexedly.
Why didn't his grandmother want him to have a father, he wondered?
And what else could he say but 'yes' to her? If he had said 'no,' she
would have been angry. Grown-up people were very difficult to
understand. He turned to Nobbles to console him. He always smiled at
him, and loved him.

Chapter III.
THE BEAUTIFUL PICTURE.
And so the house slipped back again to its gravity and silence, and the
child played about in the shrubberies and sat in the apple-tree gazing
wistfully up the dusty high-road. And deep down in his heart the hope
still lingered that his father would appear one day. Spring turned into
summer, and Bobby spent most of his days out of doors. One afternoon
his nurse took him to a farm. She was great friends with the farmer's
wife, and Bobby loved a visit there, for he was allowed to wander about
round the farm and watch the farm hands in their various occupations.
This afternoon he crossed a field to see a young colt. He was laughing
heartily as he watched its frisky antics, when from the lane that was on
one side of the field, a big black retriever appeared, barking furiously.
Bobby was not accustomed to dogs. 'The House' kept none, and with
his heart in his mouth he turned and fled. The retriever pursued him,
evidently showing by his gambols that he wanted to play. Somehow or
other Nobbles slipped from his grasp as he ran, and in an instant the
dog