“You dare say that?” he demanded; then became suddenly silent, and looked toward the door.
Edith followed his glance, and saw Bobbie standing on the threshold, his nurse behind him.
“Papa!” cried the little fellow, rushing up to his father with outstretched hands. “Have you seen my new pony?”
Donald put out his arms, and took the child to his heart. “Bobbie—my dear little boy!” he cried, as he kissed him.
“Mamma got him for me yesterday,” the child prattled on. “He’s brown, and has a shaggy mane, and I like him ever so much better than the old one. I’ve named him Billikins, because he has such a funny face. Won’t you come and see him?” He caught his father by the hand, pulling him toward the door.
“I can’t come now,” said Donald, resisting him. “He’s asleep by this time. We’ll see him to-morrow.”
“And we’ll go in swimming, papa. I’ve learned a lot since you were here last week. I can keep up dog-fashion.” He capered about, illustrating with his arms. “Mamma’s going to get me a pair of white wings. Aren’t you, mamma?” He turned to his mother for confirmation.
“Yes, dear,” she said, with tears in her eyes.
“And, papa, I’ve got a sailboat. Patrick is showing me how to sail it. Will you come to-morrow?”
“Yes, Bobbie,” his father answered mechanically.