little Bobby Baker, about
four years old; he wanted to see Andy. He ran to Andy at once, and Andy
took him up on his knee. He was a pretty child, but he reminded me too
much of his father.

'I'm so glad you've come, Andy!' said Bobby.

'Are you, Bobby?'

'Yes. I wants to ask you about daddy. You saw him go away, didn't you?'
and he fixed his great wondering eyes on Andy's face.

'Yes,' said Andy.

'He went up among the stars, didn't he?'

'Yes,' said Andy.

'And he isn't coming back to Bobby any more?'

'No,' said Andy. 'But Bobby's going to him by-and-by.'

Mrs Baker had been leaning back in her chair, resting her head on her
hand, tears glistening in her eyes; now she began to sob, and her sister
took her out of the room.

Andy looked miserable. 'I wish to God I was off this job!' he whispered
to me.

'Is that the girl that writes the stories?' I asked.

'Yes,' he said, staring at me in a hopeless sort of way, 'and poems
too.'

'Is Bobby going up among the stars?' asked Bobby.

'Yes,' said Andy--'if Bobby's good.'

'And auntie?'

'Yes.'

'And mumma?'

'Yes.'

'Are you going, Andy?'

'Yes,' said Andy hopelessly.

'Did you see daddy go up amongst the stars, Andy?'

'Yes,' said Andy, 'I saw him go up.'

'And he isn't coming down again any more?'

'No,' said Andy.

'Why isn't he?'

'Because he's going to wait up there for you and mumma, Bobby.'

There was a long pause, and then Bobby asked--

'Are you going to give me a shilling, Andy?' with the same expression of
innocent wonder in his eyes.

Andy slipped half-a-crown into his hand. 'Auntie' came in and told him
he'd see Andy in the morning and took him away to bed, after he'd kissed
us both solemnly; and presently she and Mrs Baker settled down to hear
Andy's story.

'Brace up now, Jack, and keep your wits about you,' whispered Andy to me
just before they came in.

'Poor Bob's brother Ned wrote to me,' said Mrs Baker, 'but he scarcely
told me anything. Ned's a good fellow, but he's very simple, and never
thinks of anything.'

Andy told her about the Boss not being well after he crossed the border.

'I knew he was not well,' said Mrs Baker, 'before he left. I didn't want
him to go. I tried hard to persuade him not to go this trip. I had a
feeling that I oughtn't to let him go. But he'd never think of anything
but me and the children. He promised he'd give up droving after this
trip, and get something to do near home. The li