I think it's best to go on and get your Grandpapa to write about the
poor boy."
But now the idea of rescuing Tim was in the children's heads it was not
so easy to get rid of it. They stood still looking at each other and at
Mrs. Twiss with tears in their eyes; they had come by this time perhaps
half a mile from where they had met their friends. The high-road was
here shadier and less dusty, and it was anything but inviting to think
of retracing the long stretch to Monkhaven, though from where they
stood, a turn in the road hid it from them. All at once a whistle caught
their ears--a whistle two or three times repeated in a particular
way--Toby pricked up his ears, put himself in a very valiant attitude,
and barked with a great show of importance, as much as to say, "Just you
look out now, whoever you are. _I_ am on guard now." But his bark did
not seem to strike awe into the whistler, whoever he was. Again his note
sounded clear and cheery. And this time, with a cry of "It's Tim, it's
Tim," off flew Duke and Pam down the road, followed by Barbara--Toby of
course keeping up a running accompaniment of flying circles round the
whole party till at last the sight of his beloved little master and
mistress hugging and kissing a bright-eyed, clean-faced, but sadly
ragged boy was altogether too much for his refined feelings, and he
began barking with real fury, flinging himself upon Tim as if he really
meant to bite him.
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