"I had meant this for Tommy Baird," she said, looking down at it fondly. "It's quite the best thing I have—and he's the oldest boy,—and it's very pretty, daddy thinks; but you say it won't do."
"I!" cried Paul, aghast. "I never said anything of the kind."
"You laughed at it! and you said something about a flood."
"Was not the ark connected with a flood? You know better than I."
Kitty looked from Paul to Sally with distress on her face.
"Of course," she said, a little petulantly. "But you said there might be another—and there can't be, daddy says."
"Of course there can't," said Paul, a little hurriedly, feeling it scarcely fair to make a joke to such a sensitive little girl.
"Look here! I'm writing a ticket for Tommy Baird, and I shall tuck it under the elephant's trunk. Do you think he will hold it fast?"
"Then it will do, after all," said Kitty, greatly relieved.
But when Paul and Sally were gone, and all the excitement and joy of the tea-party, and the allotting of her presents, was over, Kitty's mind reverted to the flood. Mr. Paul had meant something which he would not explain to her. Whilst the perplexing thought was still in her mind, she heard her father's latchkey turn in the lock of the front door, and he popped his head into the room where she lay with a merry laugh.