"Yes, sir, Bob; twelve pounds on the scale, and every inch a farmer. We've produced some prize winners at Brookside Farm, Bob, but this one heads the list."
"That's splendid, Uncle Joe. May I see him?"
"As soon as we get warm, Bob. I wouldn't go into the room until you've had a chance to warm up some."
A few minutes later Bob was conducted to his aunt's room and there was not only allowed to see, but to hold in his arms, the heir of Brookside Farm.
"My, but he's little," said Bob.
"Little!" exclaimed his uncle. "Why, he's a bouncing big boy."
"Well, maybe it's the clothes that make him look so small."
"Don't tell us that," said his uncle, "for we know better."
"That's what you told me when I first came to the farm," laughed Bob.
"That's right. I remember now you did look small, Bob, but you've grown a lot since then."