The second thing that Captain Lyle had done was, with a pencil, to fill a big page of paper with all kinds of droll faces and figures.
Little Effie climbed up behind his chair before long and had a peep over his shoulder.
“Oh, papa dear!” she cried, “that is not making a menagerie.”
“I know it isn’t, Effie. I think my thoughts had gone a wool-gathering.”
“Well,” said Effie, considering, “we may want some wool for nests and things; but don’t you think, papa, that we should build the house first, and look for the wool afterwards?”
“Oh!” cried Leonard, “don’t worry about the wool. Captain Lyle, your son Leonard, who stands before you, knows where to find lots of it. For whenever a sheep runs through a hedge—and they’re always, running through hedges, you know—they leave a tuft of wool on every thorn.”
“Well, my son, we’ll leave the wool out of the question for the present.” Then he walked about smiling to himself for a time and thinking, while the boy and girl amused themselves turning over the leaves of an old-fashioned picture-book.
“Hush!” said Effie several times when Leonard laughed too loud. “Hush! for I’m sure papa is deep in thought.”
“I have it!” cried papa.
And down he sat.