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Updated: June 7, 2025
Mr Merryboy could never come up to 'im in that." "Did I say he came up to him, mother? I didn't say he was as fond o' me as my own father, but as if he was my father. However, it's all arranged, and I go off at once." "Not before breakfast, Bobby?" "No, not quite.
Twelve months' experience had done much to increase Martha's love for the old lady, but it had done nothing to reduce her surprise; for Martha, as yet, did not understand a joke. This, of itself, formed a subject of intense amusement to old Mrs Merryboy, who certainly made the most of circumstances, if ever woman did. "Have some more fish, Bob," said Mrs Merryboy, junior.
Mrs Merryboy, however, has improved in every way, and is more blooming than ever, as well as a trifle stouter, but Mrs Merryboy senior, although advanced spiritually, has degenerated a little physically. The few teeth that kept her nose and chin apart having disappeared, her mouth has also vanished, though there is a decided mark which tells where it was especially when she speaks or smiles.
"Pretty much so, sir," replied Bobby, "though I wasn't quite so 'ard up as Tim, havin' both a father and mother as well as a 'ome. But they was costly possessions, so I was forced to give 'em up." "What! you don't mean that you forsook them?" said Mr Merryboy with a touch of severity.
It was to the same railway station as that at which they had parted from their guardian and been handed over to Mr Merryboy years before that Bobby Frog now drove. The train was not due for half an hour. "Tim," said Bob after they had walked up and down the platform for about five minutes, "how slowly time seems to fly when one's in a hurry!" "Doesn't it?" assented Tim, "crawls like a snail."
"Have some more bread and butter, and tea, Bob and some more sausage," said Mrs Merryboy, under a sudden impulse. Bob declined. Yes, that London street-arab absolutely declined food! So did Tim Lumpy! "Now, my lads, are you quite sure," said Mr Merryboy, "that you've had enough to eat?" They both protested, with some regret, that they had.
Sitting there, partially awe-stricken by the novelty of their surroundings, they admitted that they had slept well. "Get ready for work then," said Mr Merryboy, through a rather large mouthful. "No time to lose. Eat eat well for there's lots to do. No idlers on Brankly Farm, I can tell you. And we don't let young folk lie abed till breakfast-time every day.
"To play with us, you mean," suggested Tim. "No, father said work," the child returned simply. "It's jolly work, then! But I say, old 'ooman, d'you call Mr Merryboy father?" asked Bob in surprise. "Yes, I've called him father ever since I came." "An' who's your real father?" "I have none. Never had one." "An' your mother?" "Never had a mother either." "Well, you air a curiosity." "Hallo!
"Impossible!" said Tim Lumpy, coming down on them all with his wet-blanket of common-sense. "They would never come on without dropping us a line from Quebec, or Montreal, to announce their arrival." "That's true, Tim," said Mr Merryboy, "but you've not finished the letter, Bob go on. Mother, mother, what a variety of faces you are making!"
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