"Why, yes; I suppose I have," assented Elizabeth doubtfully. "Now, Robbie; I want you to promise me that you will be a good boy this morning, and not get into any mischief; I'm going to be very, very busy, and——"
"I'll be good," responded the young person cheerfully. "I'll be gooder 'an anything. Where's Carroll?"
"He's in the other room; but—wait a minute, dear. You remember the last time you played with Carroll you——"
"Yes, 'm; I 'member. We made an ocean in the bath-room, an' you said——"
"Doris took a bad cold from getting so wet, and Richard almost had the croup."
"I won't do it again," promised the visitor, digging his toes rather shamefacedly under a loosened edge of the linoleum. "I'll jus' look at pictures, 'n'—'n' things like that."
"Very well; I'll take you in where the children are playing. Carroll will be glad to see you; I'm sure," she added, feeling that she had been rather ungracious to her friend's child.
The three young Brewsters greeted their neighbour with a whoop of joy. Master Stanford was blessed with a pleasantly inventive turn of mind, and one could generally depend upon a break in the monotony of the home circle when he appeared.
"What'll we do?" inquired Doris, prancing gaily around the visitor, who gazed about him at the assembled Brewster toys with a somewhat ennuied expression on his small, serious countenance.
"Aw—I don't know; play with dolls, I guess. I promised I'd be good."