"But you needn't really play with dolls. Mrs. Dean doesn't. She's the grandmother. We go to visit her, and she tells us about the old times, just as Aunt Nancy and Aunt Patience do. Of course she wasn't there really, she makes believe, you know. And you might be the—the——"
"Grandfather who had lost his leg in the war."
Ben laughed. He had half a mind to go.
"Oh, that would be splendid. And you could be a prisoner when the British held New York. There'd be such lots to talk about. You could wear John's slipper, you see——"
She smiled so persuasively. She would never be as handsome as Margaret, but she had such tender, coaxing eyes, and such a sweet mouth.
"Well, I'll bring my book along." It was one of Cooper's novels that boys were going wild over just then. "Do you really think they'd like to have me?"
"Oh, I know they would," eagerly.
Ben had to walk rather one-sided. Joe said he must not bear any weight on the outside of his foot to press the wound open.
"I've brought Ben," announced the little girl. "And he's going to be a Revolutionary soldier."
"We are very glad to see him," and Mrs. Dean rose. She had a white kerchief crossed on her breast, and a pretty cap pinned up for the occasion.