There is a small white gate that leads to the house, from the
road; and there is a pleasant path leading right out from the front
door, through the garden, down to the water. This is the house that
Georgie lives in.
One evening, just before sunset, Rollo was coming along over the stone
bridge, towards home. He stopped a moment to look over the railing,
down into the water Presently he heard a very sweet-toned voice calling
out to him,
"Rol-lo."
Rollo looked along in the direction in which the sound came. It was from
the bank of the stream, a little way from the road, at the place where
the path from Georgie's house came down to the water. The brook was
broad, and the water pretty smooth and still here; and it was a place
where Rollo had often been to sail boats with Georgie. There was a
little smooth, sandy place on the shore, at the foot of the path, and
they used to call it Georgie's landing; and there was a seat close by,
under the bushes.
Rollo thought it was Georgie's voice that called him, and in a minute,
he saw him sitting on his little seat, with his crutches by his side.
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