Susan sprang to her feet and faced the thinnest little boy she had ever seen.
“He’s as thin as a bone,” thought she, borrowing an expression from Grandmother.
But the thin little face owned a pair of honest blue eyes, and a smile so wide that you couldn’t help smiling back even if you happened to be feeling very cross. And, as Susan didn’t feel cross in the least, you may imagine how broadly she smiled upon her new neighbor.
“Is this your dog?” asked Phil, eyeing Snuff’s bandage with respectful interest. “I’m going to have a dog and a cat and maybe some hens and chickens, too.”
Susan related Snuff’s accident, and the invalid, feeling all eyes upon him, dropped his head heavily to the ground with a deep sigh and a mournful thud of his tail. Then he opened one eye to see the effect upon his audience.
Susan and Phil broke into laughter at such sly tricks, and Snuff, delighted with his success, beat his tail violently upon the piazza floor.
“I brought over my Noah’s Ark,” announced Phil, taking from under his arm the gayly painted little house upon which Susan’s eyes had been fixed from the first. “We’ll play, if you like.”
And Susan and Phil, with the ease of old friends, proceeded to marshal the strange little toy animals in line, two by two, behind Mr. and Mrs. Noah and their stiff and stolid family.
“Now you sing a song,” said Phil. “Do you know it?” And without waiting for Susan’s shake of the head he burst loudly into tune:
“They marched the animals, two by two,
One wide river to cross—
The elephant and the kangaroo,
One wide river to cross.”