"This your family?" he repeated. "Which is the little feller I
used to hold in my lap?"

"That was Bobby," smiled Mother Blossom. "He's seven years old
now. This is Meg, and the two youngsters are our twins, Twaddles
and Dot. We're going to Apple Tree Island. I have never been back
since--"

She stopped, afraid that perhaps she had recalled painful memories
to Mr. Harley. But his attractive smile slowly overspread his face
again.

"That so?" he said with interest. "I haven't been there myself in
quite a spell. I expect the boys have grown out of sight. I'm on
my way now to see the wife and kids."

The Blossom family remained perfectly silent. What could they say?




CHAPTER VIII

OLD BROOKSIDE FRIENDS


"Yes," repeated Mr. Harley comfortably. "I don't suppose the boys
will know me. Dick must be ten now, and Herbert's a year older. I
calculate to stay over to-night with Joe Gates and his wife in
Pomona (that's why you folks overtook me walking along this road)