'Yes,' said Mr. Russell, looking down at the little figure on the floor, half humorously, half sadly; 'every one that wants to be taken in.'
'Why should any one want to be outside?' questioned the child.
Mr. Russell did not answer; he went to his outline and uncovered it. It was rapidly progressing. Betty's little figure was nearly finished. There was the gnarled log of wood against which she lay; and Prince's outline had already been commenced.
She jumped up and came over to look at it.
'It would make a beautiful grave, wouldn't it?' she said thoughtfully; 'I should like to have it put on the top of mine when I die.'
'Don't talk about dying, child!' was the hasty reply.
'I'm afraid I'm not ready,' said Betty, with a shake of her curly head; 'but I will be when I've been through tribulation! Mr. Russell, do you think a dog can go through tribulation?'
'No, I do not,' said Mr. Russell, laughing. Betty's views on her favourite text were by this time well known to him; and he generally treated her childish difficulties with respect; but this unexpected question was too much for him, and Betty's little face clouded over at his laugh. She was very silent after that, and went home with rather a wistful little face.
But all serious thoughts were dissolved at the news that awaited her. Molly rushed out, her long hair flying in the wind: 'I've got a letter from Uncle Harry, and he is coming to see us next week!'
'And he's going to spend a week with us; he's going to fish, and I shall fish too!' shouted Douglas.