"Why, a daddy is a little boy's father," I explained. "You've got a daddy—"
"Oh, yes," he said. "If a daddy is a father, I've got one. I saw him yesterday," he added.
"Oh, did you?" said I. "And what did he say to you?"
"He said he was glad to see me and hoped I was a good boy," said the child. "He seemed very glad when I told him I hoped so, too, and he gave me all these things here—he and my mother."
"That was very nice of them," said I huskily.
"And they're both coming up some time to-day or to-morrow to see if I like them," said the lad.
"And what are you going to say?" I asked, with difficulty getting the words out over a most unaccountable lump that had arisen in my throat.
"I'm going to tell them," he began, as his eyes closed sleepily, "that I like them all very, very much."
"And which one of them all do you like the best?" said I.
He snuggled up closer in my arms, and, raising his little head a trifle higher, he kissed me on the tip end of my chin, and murmured softly as he dropped off to sleep,