and Rob was her horse.

"Where have you been, my son?" said the parson, trying to be severe.
"You should not have gone off in this manner for the whole day without
asking permission."

Rob's bright smile faded a little; but Bertha said, quickly, "Please,
papa, don't scold Rob. If you only knew--"

"Hush, Bertha!" said Rob; and red as his cheeks were, they grew redder.

"I am sorry you are offended, sir. I did not mean to be so long. We were
detained."

"What detained you?"

"And where did you get your dinner?" asked mamma.

"Oh, we had plenty to eat."

"But you don't intend us to know where you got it?"

"No, sir," said Rob, frankly.

"Now, papa, you _shall_ not scold Rob," said Bertha, putting her hand in
his. "Come into your study. Go away, Rob; go give Jip his supper. Come,
mamma;" and Bertha dragged them both in to the fire, where, with
sparkling eyes and cheeks like carnation, she began to talk: "Mamma, you
remember that scrimmage Rob got into with the village boys last Fourth
of July, and how hatefully they knocked him down, and how bruised his
eye was for a long time?"

"Yes, I remember, and I always blamed Rob. He should never have had
anything to do with those rowdies."

"I didn't blame him; I never blame Rob for anything, except when he
won't do what I want him to do. Well, the worst one of all those horrid
boys is Sim Jenkins--at least he was; I don't think he's quite so bad
now. But he has been punished for all his badness, for he hurt his leg
awfully, and has been laid up for months--so his mother says; and she is
quite nice. She gave us our dinner to-day. Somehow or other, Rob heard
that Sim was in bed, and had not had any Christmas things, and that his
mother was poor; and she says all her money has gone for doctor's bills
and medicine. And so it just came into his head that perhaps it would do
Sim good to have a Christmas-tree on New-Year's Day; and he asked Mrs.
Jenkins, and she was afraid it would make a muss, but Rob said he would
be careful. And so he carried our tree over, and fixed it in a box, and
covered the box with moss, and we have been as busy as bees trying to
make it look pretty. And that is what has kept us so long, for Rob had
to run down to the store and get things--nails and ribbons, and I don't
know what all. And Sim is not to know anything about the tree until
to-morrow. And please give us some of the pretty things which were in
our box, for we could not get quite enoug