"Whh, do you know the Squire?" exclaimed Bab, much surprised and
re-assured.
"Come on purpose to see him. Just strolling round till he gets back,"
with an impatient sort of sigh.
"Betty thought you was a tramp, but I wasn't afraid. I like tramps ever
since Ben came," explained Bab, with her usual candor.
"Who 's Ben!" and the man came nearer so quickly that Betty nearly fell
backward. "Don't you be scared, Sissy. I like little girls, so you set
easy and tell me about Ben," he added, in a persuasive tone, as he
leaned on the gate so near that both could see what a friendly face he
had in spite of its eager, anxious look.
"Ben is Miss Celia's boy. We found him most starved in the coach-house,
and he's been here ever since," answered Bab, comprehensively.
"Tell me about it. I like tramps, too," and the man looked as if he did
very much, as Bab told the little story in a few childish words that
were better than a much more elegant account.
"You were very good to the little feller," was all the man said when she
ended her somewhat confused tale, in which she had jumbled the old coach
and Miss Celia, dinner-pails and nutting, Sancho and circuses.
"'Course we were! He's a nice boy and we are fond of him, and he likes
us," said Bab, heartily.
" 'Specially me," put in Betty, quite at ease now, for the black eyes
had softened wonderfully, and the brown face was smiling all over.
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