"Oh, Ralph, that's the Sandman; you mustn't let him throw sand in your eyes in the street car!"
"No, me 'on't," said Ralph, making a desperate effort.
This little conversation seemed greatly to amuse an old gentleman opposite. He took Ralph on his knee and let him play with his watch, and kindly kept him awake until it was time for the children to get out.
When they reached home they found the family, with the addition of their grandma, Aunt Kitty and Uncle Fred, all at supper, laughing and talking in the happiest manner imaginable. Winnie was delighted. Aunt Kitty was the dearest to her of all her aunts. She was young and gay and good-natured, always ready to join in a frolic, or to help with one's lessons, or to take the children and the children's visitors to the "zoo" or the park or some other place equally delightful.
After supper they went into the sitting-room, and Winnie and Jack played their last duet, which Aunt Kitty complimented quite highly. She said to Mr. Burton, "Winnie does so nicely with her music that I hope you'll allow her to make more of it soon. If she goes to the high-school next year, she'll have more time to practice, won't she?"
"Yes, I think so," interrupted Uncle Fred. "She'll be putting on long dresses, and practicing the airs of a young lady before the glass. But she won't imitate you, Kitty; your ways will be too youthful for her by that time," and he gave Winnie's braid a pull. "Isn't it singular?" he continued meditatively. "Here Winnie will be growing older every year, and Kitty just the reverse. I don't think she'll have another birthday in ten years."
"Most assuredly not, if you'll tell me the way to avoid it. Winnie can have my birthdays and her own, too," laughed Aunt Kitty.
If there was one thing in the world that Winnie resented as an indignity, it was having her ears tweaked, and now she burst out:
"Grandma, do make Uncle Fred stop! I think he ought to have a good scolding."
"Why, he's my baby," said grandma; "you wouldn't have me scold my baby, would you?"