“She probably has been reading Master Toby’s mind already,” said her father, smilingly looking over his paper.
“Oh, father!”
“If each of you will write a word on a slip of paper, I will have the slips collected and put on my forehead; and I will take them from my forehead one by one, but before I take each one down, I will tell what is written upon it.”
All wrote some word.
“Will some one collect the slips?” she asked.
“I will,” said her father.
“I think as Thomas Toby is spry, I shall have to ask him to do me the favor.”
“How I wish I were spry!” said her father.
The slips were collected. Tommy put them all on her forehead. She put up her fingers and held them there, and Tommy took a seat with his friends.
Agnes seemed in reverie. Then she said emphatically,—