"Like Robinson Crusoe," added the little boy.
"But we couldn't find Mr. Friday," said Sue. "You could be Mr. Friday, if we ever played Robinson Crusoe; couldn't he, Bunny?" Sue asked. "You look like the pictures of Robinson in the book. You could be him, and Bunny could be Friday—that would be better. Would you like to, Mr. Hermit?"
"Well, I don't know, my dear. I guess my play-days and make-believe days are over."
"You are just like Robinson Crusoe," Sue went on. "It's better to be him, 'cause Mr. Friday is black. You'd have to black up. I did, with black mud, and I was washing it off when I fell in and Splash pulled me out."
"You can tell me about that another time," said the old man. "I think, now, I had better start home with you. And, on the way, we will look in the valley for the Gypsies. Perhaps they are there yet."
"And maybe they have grandpa's horses!" cried Bunny. "Oh, wouldn't that be good, Sue, if we could find them?"
