Certainly he did. It was unnecessary for Mrs. Joyce to ask. But as Granny climbed in, Grannyfather took him from the running board of the car, and held him in his arms, while he watched the car disappear down the road among the trees and bushes.
“Now Ginkle, you must be a good boy; Granny is going away all day, and you must take good care of Grannyfather.” This had been the good-bye message.
“Aw wight.” Ginkle was willing, even if disappointed about the ride.
“Grannyfather will see that you get lots to eat.”
“Granny bring me something?”
“Oh, maybe.”
Grandfather and Ginkle then walked together along the path back to the house.
“Now Ginkle,” said Grandfather, “I guess we’ll take a trip too. What do you say?”
“Aw wight.” Ginkle was agreeable.
For some time they were busy about the house. On the table they found a big basket. Grandfather lifted the cover just enough to see that it was filled with good things to eat. Then he hunted up his ax, sharpened it, and put on some working clothes. He and Ginkle set out, carrying the basket between them. Along the sandy brush-lined road they went, Grandfather carrying his ax upon his shoulder. After something more than a half-mile walk they found themselves at a particularly wild and wooded part of the shoreline. In among the pines were gray rocks at intervals, and Grandfather hunted up a fresh bubbling water spring.