"I'm sorry on Mother's account,—awfully—but I want to go," said Bob, gripping his father's arm.
Up-stairs Elizabeth had been helping Mrs. Gordon in Bob's room, and now she led William away, reluctant to go, though he was tired out with running from trunk to closet and tagging close at his big brother's active heels.
"We'll sit down in your room here and have a story, shall we?" she proposed, drawing up a low rocking-chair by William's bed and lifting the sleepy little boy upon her lap.
"What shall I tell?" she asked, when William leaned comfortably back against her, his unwillingness to leave the others forgotten.
"Tell about the goose princess," murmured William against her arm.
"But that you have so often heard," protested Elizabeth, but faintly, knowing she would have to yield.
As William only grunted in reply she plunged patiently into the little old story that was William's favorite, and very easy to tell indeed, for William prompted her at every few words.
"Now the frog comes hopping in, doesn't he?" he raised his head presently to ask.
"Yes," Elizabeth nodded, "and up he came before the little princess to stand, but she was so frightened she ran back to the chimney corner."