George had received a watch and books and a real gun from his father. His mother had given building bricks to little Ladislaus.
“Hurry up. It is late,” said Thomas.
Sleep suddenly forsook the boys’ eyes. “Next Christmas I shall ask for things to build a bridge with,” decided the smaller boy with true childlike insatiability.
George shrugged his shoulders.
“If I were you I should ask for horses like those we saw in the shop window the other day. When I was little they did not make such lovely toys as they do now.”
“You are for ever thinking of horses,” retorted the little son. “I want to build bridges. When I am grown up I shall build a bridge over the Danube and get a lot of toll from everybody.”
“Don’t be silly,” said the elder, “as if one could not get rich with horses!”
Thomas smiled and looked at his wife.
“They have got your grandfather’s fine blood in them.”
Anne looked after the boys. The younger was fair and blue-eyed like the Ulwings. His bony little fist resembled his great-grandfather’s powerful hand and when he got into a temper his jaw went to one side and his eyes became cold.