"And you know Nellie?" asked Betty, pointedly.
"Yes," said the boy. "You see, I work through this part of the country. I
peddle writing paper, pens, pins, needles and notions," he added,
motioning to his pack. "I often stop at Nellie's house, and at her
aunt's, too. They're my regular customers," he added, proudly, and with
a proper regard for his humble calling.
"I'm doing pretty well, too," he went on. "I've got a good trade, and I'm
thinking of adding to it. I'll take little Nellie back home for you," he
offered. "I'm going that way. Sometimes, when I'm late, as I am to-day,
her mother keeps me over night."
"That's nice," said Betty. "We really didn't know what to do with her,
and we ought to be in Flatbush at my friend's aunt's house," and she
indicated Mollie. "Will you go with your little friend?" Betty asked of
the child.
"Me go wif Dimmie," was the answer, confidently given. "Dimmie know
where I live."
"But can you walk?" asked Amy, as they all noticed that the boy's foot
was quite badly cut.
"Oh, I guess I can limp, if I can't walk," he said, bravely. "If I
had a bandage I might tie it up so I could put on my shoe. Then I'd
be all right."
"Let me fix it," exclaimed Betty, impulsively.
Pages:
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164