"How you grow, Charley," said John, tossing him up on his shoulder, and walking up to the looking-glass. "It seems but yesterday that you lay wrapped up in your blanket a-board Captain Lucas' ship with your thumb in your mouth (that unfailing sign of a good-natured baby), thinking of nothing at all; and now here you are six years' old to-day—think of that man? and I dare say you expect a birth-day present."
"Yes, if you please," said Charley.
"There, now; that is to the point. I like an honest boy. What will you have, Charley?"
"Something pretty for my mamma," said the loving little heart.
"Better still," said John; "but mamma won't take presents. I have tried her a great many times. There is one I want very much to make her, but she always says 'No.'" And John glanced at Gertrude.
"Mind what you say," whispered his sister. "He might chance to repeat it to his mother."
"So much the better, Gertrude. Then she will be sure to think of me at least one minute.
"But, Charley, tell me what you want. I would like to get you something for yourself."
"I want my papa," said Charley, resolutely. "Tommy Fritz keeps saying that I 'haven't got any papa.' Haven't I got a papa, cousin John?"