"Then the thing is settled," I say. "We'll write to Dirty and give her notice. There's nothing else to be done. I will write now and you can give the letter yourself to the postman, when he comes this afternoon. If you take my advice, you will make her a present of your ball. Then she will not be so much upset."
"She can have my gold-fish too, if she likes," says the boy.
"Excellent, excellent. We will give her the gold-fish. Then she will really have nothing in the world to complain of."
My little boy goes away. But, presently, he returns:
"Father, have you written the letter to Dirty?"
"Not yet, my boy. There is time enough. I sha'n't forget it."
"Father, I am so fond of Dirty."
"She was certainly a dear little girl."
A silence.
"Father, I am also so fond of Erna."