“Well, I wish you’d let me row you to some others that hardly any one but myself knows about.”

“I shall be glad to have you,” said Bunny’s father.  “And I’m glad you understand a boat.  I shan’t be worried when Bunny and his sister Sue are out with you.”

“I can row myself a little, when you are with me, Daddy,” said Bunny.

“Yes, but you’ll have a chance to learn more with Tom, as I haven’t time to teach you.  So I’m going to depend on you, Tom.”

“Yes, sir, and I’ll take good care of ’em.  I’ve lived near this lake all my life, and when my folks died and I went to the poorhouse in the Winter, and worked out in the Summer, I managed to get to the lake part of the time.  I’ll look after the children all right.”

Mr. Brown did not need to ask anything further what Tom knew of a boat, once the ragged boy took his seat and picked up the oars.  He handled them just as well as Mr. Brown could himself.

“Do you want me to row you to any particular place?” asked Tom.

“Well, some place where we can get some fish.  I suppose Bunny would like to land a few.”

“I want to catch a whole lot of fish, Daddy!” cried Bunny.  “So row me to a place where there’s lots of ’em!”

“All right, here we go!” and Tom bent his back to the oars, so that the boat was soon skimming swiftly over the water.  Mr. Brown liked the way the big boy managed the boat, and he knew he would feel safe when Bunny and Sue were out with Tom.

Meanwhile, on shore, in the shade of the cooking tent, Sue was busy with her pie.

“I want to make a mince one, for daddy likes that kind,” said Sue.  “And I want to have it ready for them when they come home from fishing.  Though I don’t see what he wants of any more fish,” she added, as she glanced at a little pool near the edge of the lake where, in a fish-car, the fish Mr. Brown had caught while out alone that morning were swimming.  They could not get out of the car, or box, which had netting on the side.

“He is going to take some of them back to the city with him in the morning,” said Mrs. Brown.  “He wants to give them to his friends.  Those he and Bunny and Tom catch this afternoon, will be for our supper, Sue.”

“I like Tom, don’t you, Mother?” asked Sue, as she put on a long apron in readiness to bake her pie.

“Yes, he seems like a nice boy.  But it’s very queer that the hermit should stick needles into him.”

“But they weren’t real needles,” said Sue.  “He never could see them.  He only felt them.  They must have been fairy needles, for Tom could never see them being pulled out, either.”

“Well, we’ll let your father look after that,” said Mrs. Brown.  “Now we’ll bake your pie and I’ll make the pudding and cake I have to get ready for the Sunday dinner.”

Whenever Mrs. Brown baked she always let Sue do something—­make a patty-cake, a little pie with some of the left-over crust from a big one, or, perhaps, bake a pan of cookies.  Mrs. Brown would let Susie use some of the dough or pie crust already made up, or she would stand beside her little girl and tell her what to do.