Bobby Blake at Rockledge School; or, Winning the Medal of Honor

t one look into the kitchen assured Bobby that it wa

had not returned from town. At a late hour Michael Mulcahey had come back with the carriage and announced

was a long-lipped Irishman, with kindly, twinkling eyes, and "ould counthry" whiskers that met under

ng of fish ye hav

ts," complained Fred. "They won't cook 'em

lane the fish, byes. There's a pan jest inside the dure

Michael!"

give ye a bit of fat salt por-r-rk and some bread. Tell her she naden't bother with supper. We'll ma

little fish rapidly, and whispering together. They were delighted with the coachman's suggestion. I

e red bandage, but the moment she caught sight of him she hes

vant?" sh

nd knives and forks. He had "bached it" a good many years before he came

edge her blessings-not in public, at least. "Vell, I give you the pork a

bby returned to the room over the harness clos

u because you spoil us," dec

d me again-though it wasn't just like a proposal

f a pencil from a ledge. On this board was a long array of pencil marks-four straight, up and

e slanting mark meant another "No"; so that Meena's refusals

nother siven. He didn't have nawthin' on me-sorra a bit! When Meena'

and pepper. Wiping each of the little fish partly dry, he rolled them in the mixture, and then laid them methodically in rows upon a board. When the f

them on a sheet of brown paper for a bit to drain off the fat. The

are about to rayceive make us tr-r-ruly grateful! Pass the bread, Master

f. After the excitement and adventures of the afternoon they

the house seemed very still and lonely when he had gone to bed, and he lay a long time liste

ther and mother came into the house. They came quietly up stairs, whispering softly, but the door between Bobby's room a

ave bought our tickets-as I told you," Mr

y heard his mother say. "

ortation up the river, to Samratam, is uncertain. Brother Bill left the business in some confusion, I understand, and we may be obliged t

Blake, and Bobby knew she was crying softly. "I woul

omfortingly. "You're going, my dear. A

he house, and Michael we can trust with everything else. B

d his father looked. He hopped out of bed and crept softly to the door. He did not mean t

n Clinton have plenty of children of their own and wouldn't want to be bothered. Or el

nd just then Bobby pushed open the do

awake and the door was open. I know just what you can do

tting out her arms to him. "My bo

the trip sometime,"

eemed to be a lump rising in his throat. He never liked to see his mother cry. "Why, I'm

bs?" asked his f

be fun, and they'll look out for me there-you know they are aw

ed?" chuckle

ut for Fred same as I always do, I won't have time to get in

around Bobby, but she had stopped crying and she looked over at

onsideration, Bobs," he said. "Now kiss your mother and me goo

alking all the way to Rockledge School, and they went barefooted with their shoes slung over their shoulders, Applethwaite Plunkit and his big dog popped out of almo

Bobby knew all about poor Uncle Bill. He could just remember him-a small, very brown, good-temper

but finally the climate had been too much for him and only a few months ago word had come of his death. He had been a bachelor. Mr. Blake had positively to go to Sam

n on the horizon of his future, so, long before time for Sunday School, he

d-story window. "Hello!" he said

I got the greatest

growled Fred. "It's just like iron! I j

e much mooted point. "Hurry up!" he threw back at

ore he could start for Sunday School. He heard some little scolding behind the closed blinds of

ut Bobby merely chuckled. He thought Mary Martin was pretty nice, himself-only, p

oothingly. "Let it go. I got some

manded Fred, not

happen that you've just been h

sles-or something?" exclaimed

to do with Ap Plunkit," r

is it,

by tol