"And now you know my wife, I want you to know my little girl," Cragg said, delighted with Pattie's mode of meeting his wife's humour. He began to hope that things would go better than he had ventured to expect.
"Little Dot! I should like that so much. I love children."
"Here she comes!" exclaimed Cragg.
Dot made her appearance after her own fashion: calmly and deliberately, with small head held well up, and light-grey eyes widely-opened. She ignored her own relatives, and advanced straight towards Pattie. Then disappointment fell upon the infant mind.
"You'm not that poo-ar lickle girl. You'm drown-up,' she asserted.
"What a little darling!" murmured Pattie.
"All drown-up," repeated Dot, in profound disappointment.
"But I'm not grown up; truly I'm not. I am only a girl still, Dot. Not really grown up. And I love games of play. May I play with you sometimes? And I love reading stories aloud. May I read to you?"
"Pay glames and lead to me all day long," declared Dot, without an instant's hesitation. She seized Pattie's hand to draw her away.
"But, hallo, Dot,—you're forgetting me. Not a word for-poor old daddy!" protested her father.