"And I'm going to do heaps of things for her. And she's to have all my toys, and the dolls most especially, for I sha'n't want dolls now I'm going to have Ivy. She'll be ever so much nicer than dolls, and I'll always play with her. And perhaps I'll be allowed to dress and undress her."
"You'll jolly soon get sick of that."
"No, I sha'n't. I'll never get tired of her. And I've got to show I can be trusted, and I don't mean ever to forget things again. And then they'll know I can."
Chris laughed.
"You needn't laugh, Chris—not like that—truly you needn't, because I do mean it you know."
Chris was delicately tickling the frog with a straw to induce it to leap. Hecla paused in her outpour to watch his proceedings. She always loved to look at what he might be doing.
"So it's a baby, is it?" he presently vouchsafed to ask.
"The frog?" inquired absent-minded Hecla.
"You dunderhead! The cousin, of course!"
"She's near a baby—but not quite. She's five years old."