“More fun for you than for the puppy, I should say,” said Edgar.
“Well, I think a secret prisoner would be delightful—like the ‘Pigeon Pie.’ Edgar, didn’t you ever read the ‘Pigeon Pie’?”
“No,” said Edgar, “I haven’t had that pleasure.”
“Please, ma’am,” said Wyn with a smile, “I have. My sister Bessie brought it me out of her school library.”
“I’m sure,” said Geraldine, “it’s a very nice book for you to read, Wyn. But what shall I call the puppy?”
“Please, ma’am, we calls them Wriggle and Wruggle.”
“Rigoletto?” suggested Edgar.
“No,” said Geraldine, “it ought to be Star or Sunshine, or something like that, for I’m sure he’ll be a light in a dark place. I know—Apollo. I shall call him Apollo. Well, I’ll take him and fall on my knees to Miss Hardman, and beg her and pray her. And oh, Edgar! it’s holidays—mayn’t I come back and go with you to see the creatures?”
Edgar nodded, and Geraldine flew off, but was stopped in her career by her cousin James, who came out of the house as she passed, and detained her to shake hands and look at the puppy. He came up to Edgar’s chair as Wyn went off to fetch the pony.
“Good morning, Edgar,” he said; “pretty well to-day? I see you are teaching Geraldine to be as fond of pets as you are yourself.”