“No,” said Leonard. “I see you can’t get at it.”
“Well, tell me.”
“Why, a real gipsy-waggon to wander away in, when summer days are fine, and see strange people and strange places.”
“And tell fortunes, Leonie?”
“Well, we might do that, you know.”
“Ah! but summer isn’t anywhere near yet; the chrysanthemums have only just begun to blow. Then we couldn’t go far away, because poor papa and mamma would miss us quite a deal, and who would feed our pets?”
“Why, Peter, to be sure. He does more than half now. And although winter will come soon, summer will return, Eff, and the woods grow green again, and the birds begin to sing once more, and the streams be clear as crystal, instead of brown as they now are.”
“Well,” said Effie, “it is worth thinking about. Would Don do?”
Don was the donkey.
“Yes, I think Don would do first-rate. I’m sure he wouldn’t run off.”