“Yes, my dear,” said the Sage, smiling affably.
“Stories?” inquired Fidge, his eyes wide open with excitement and interest.
The old man nodded.
“Oh! do tell us one, please,” begged the little boy. “The Three Bears, or Little Red Riding Hood, or something of that sort.”
“Fidge, Fidge,” cried Dick, rebukingly, “you mustn’t bother the gentleman.”
“Oh, I don’t mind in the least,” said the Sage, pleasantly. “I’ll tell him some stories, if he likes.”
“Oh! thanks, that’s jolly!” cried Fidge, clapping his hands, and they all sat down again, while the old man began as follows:—
“It was on a dark winter’s night, and the hot sun was pouring down upon the——”
“Oh!” interrupted Marjorie, “I beg your pardon, but haven’t you made a mistake? It couldn’t have been dark, you know, if the sun was shining.”
The Sage frowned severely.