“Ten to-morrow, you great big, big brother Archie,” she said.
Archie laughed right merrily.
“What are you going to do all?”
“Oh, such a lot of things! First of all, if it snows—”
“It is snowing now, Archie, fast.”
“Well then I’m going to shoot the fox that stole poor Cock Jock. Oh, my poor Cock Jock! We’ll never see him again.”
“Shooting foxes isn’t sport, Archie.”
“No, dad; it’s revenge.”
The father shook his head.
“Well, I mean something else.”