“I’m not pindling,” asserted Ruth indignantly, throwing herself forthwith upon her father and belabouring him with both fists, in which exercise she was immediately joined by her sister, and what a grand scrimmage the three of them had. Finally they got Dad flat on the ground and both sat on him, panting but triumphant. When he suddenly sprang right up on his feet, sending them rolling, while he roared with delighted laughter.
“I may be old and tuckered out but I can send you two spinning like tops,” he jeered.
“Dad, you aren’t a bit old,” Rose declared anxiously. “You’re the youngest father in the world.”
At that he laughed some more, and then told them they must set off for home or Marmie would be worried.
The wind was blowing up colder as they rode back. But in their sheepskin coats they were cosy enough, and jogged along cheerily over the brown, dry grass. It was a six or seven mile ride, so they went easily, for they had ridden a lot that day.
“Some little girls don’t ever ride,” Ruth said. “Wouldn’t it seem funny not to have any horses, and to walk whenever you went anywhere.”
“They go in cars,” said Rose. “Electric cars, you know.”
“I’d like to see a electric car,” Ruth returned, rather uncertainly. “It must be like magic, Rose.”
Rose nodded. “But not so magic as our fairy.”
“Oh, no-o! Do you know, I dreamed about our fairy last night, and she told me she was coming to see us to-day. I wonder if she will. Wouldn’t it be fine, just when we’ll be feeling like sitting by the fire and making believe, after all this riding!”