“The wadding out of the old tea cosy,” she cried.
“And Baby’s red cape and hood are made from an old cloak Mamma had when she was a girl. Do you see this wand? Well, old Joe made it, and we covered it with gold paper.”
“Marvellous!” cried Frank. “What a pity I wasn’t here sooner to rig myself out in something.”
“I’ll tell you what—go as a Red Indian,” cried Willie. “I wanted to, but couldn’t manage it.”
But Frank decided he would go in plain clothes.
The new baby came in for a lot of attention, too.
“Well, little chap, I wonder what you’ll want to be when you grow up,” said Frank, leaning over his little cart. “I wonder will you be fond of bush life, or will you have a hankering after other things.”
The new baby smiled up at him, as though it didn’t care what became of it in the future.
“Anyhow, I’ll keep an eye on you and find out what you do want, and see that you get it.”
Frank meant it, for in his heart was a great gladness, and life seemed worth while. He grew quite excited over the prospect of the party, too.