ttle fingers and stroked Bobby's velvet sleeve.

'What a nice coat you've got on!'

Boy-like, Bobby did not think much of his clothes.

'Who are you?' he asked curiously.

'Dad's little girl.'

'Father has no one but me,' said Bobby, with scarlet cheeks. 'I'm his
own proper boy.'

'Yes,' said True meekly, 'I know you are. I don't think I'm quite a
proper child, because my own father is dead, but dad is my next one,
and mother's my _very_ own. She doesn't belong to you at all, only to
_me_.'

The relationship puzzled Bobby, and did not altogether please him. He
had been so accustomed to think of himself and his father quite alone,
that this little girl and her mother seemed quite unnecessary.

Conversation languished between them until Mr. Allonby had finished his
note; then he left the room, found a messenger to take it at once, and
then for the next ten minutes all was bustle and confusion getting
ready for the return journey.

'If we are quick we shall get home by nine o'clock, True,' Mr. Allonby
said as he wrapped a heavy rug round Bobby and tucked him in by his
side in the car.

Five minutes afterwards they were going swiftly up the high-road. To
Bobby it all seemed a dream. He grasped Nobbles tightly, but no fear
assailed him. He had prepared himself too long for the possibility of
going off with an unknown father to be much disturbed now.

And the strangeness of his journey fascinated him. True on one side of
him, his father on the other--both strangers to him a few hours ago.
They passed in the dusk the identical spot where he had stood
confronting the bull that same afternoon. It seemed to be a year ago.
True looked out as they passed, rather sleepily.

'That's where dad charged the bull! Oh, it was horrid! I thought we
were going to be smashed up!'

Bobby snuggled closer to his father's side, and Mr. Allonby said
shortly:

'We won't think any more about that, True.'

It grew darker as they flew along; trees by the roadside began to turn
black and grim. A belt of pinewood looked as if it contained a band of
robbers ready to spring out upon any unlucky passer-by.

The light from their lamps seemed to cast strange shadows across the
road. They passed through two or three villages where the lights from
the cottage windows looked to Bobby like fallen stars. True soon went
to sleep, but the small boy sat looking out with wide awe-stricken
eyes. He had never been out at night before