Then he went to thinking about what Dr. Sullivan said in his sermon, and pretty soon he began to wonder if he couldn’t help with the new church. All the afternoon he thought about it, and finally a plan came into his little mind, which he thought of so much that he could hardly sleep that night. But he didn’t want anybody to know anything about it, so he went to sleep as fast as he could. Fortunately for his plans, Monday was as pleasant as Sunday, and about ten o’clock Robbie went to Mrs. Ellsworth. “Mamma, I want to go take a walk,” he said. “Why, Robbie dear, you would get lost.” “But I only want to go around to Uncle Will’s,” pleaded the little fellow. Now Uncle Will was a doctor, a great favorite with his little nephew, and he lived only around the corner, in the new house which he had just built. “I think you may go, then,” said Mrs. Ellsworth, “as you don’t have to cross the street to get there. I am going down to papa’s office, and will tell him to stop for you when he comes home.” “No, mamma,” said Robbie, “I’d rather not. I have a very much reason for wanting to come home alone.” That was his way of saying he had a very good, and, in his eyes, important reason, which he didn’t want to give. So his mother agreed, kissed him good-by, and he started out, first getting his little green wheelbarrow from the hall closet. He trudged along down one street, up another, till he stopped on the stone steps of “Uncle Will’s house,” and gave the bell such a pull as only a boy of about Robbie’s size knows how. Aunt Flora greeted her small visitor very warmly, laughing at his wheelbarrow, but he pushed right by her, and trudged into Uncle Will’s office, pushing his wheelbarrow before him. Uncle Will was engaged in discussing the cholera germ with a brother physician, but he turned and welcomed his nephew cheerily: “Well, my man! What can I do for you to-day? Will you cart a wheelbarrow of books around to the library for me?” “Mamma wouldn’t let me,” said Robbie. “I came to see if you would let me have one wheelbarrowful of the bricks that were left over—out in the back yard.” “Certainly,” said Uncle Will. “You can go right out and get them.” So Robbie turned again, too eager to even thank his uncle, pushed his wheelbarrow through the dining-room, and was soon taking down bricks from the pile by the back stoop. His barrow didn’t hold but about a half-dozen, and soon Irish Mary was lifting it up the steps, and he arrived again before his uncle’s door. “Are they my very own, Uncle Will,” he asked, as that gentleman turned to look at his load, “to use just as I want to?” “Your very own,” said the doctor, “to do what you please with. If you wish, you may throw them in the cistern. But what are they for?” “I would rather not tell, Uncle Will.” “Very well, sir. Success to your project, whatever it is.”