“Yes, I am,” said the Father Bear. “What do you want?”
The Mother Bear sighed. “I don’t know how it is, husband,” she said, “but I never had a cub like Sprawley before. He is so naughty and mischievous that he keeps his little brother and sister whining all the time.”
“You ought to box him,” said the Father Bear.
“That’s all very well,” said the Mother Bear, “but when I try to box him he slips behind the others and pushes them forward, and he is so quick that twice I have boxed Dumpy instead of him by mistake.”
The Father Bear grunted and they were silent for a while, but presently the Mother Bear began again, more softly than ever. “Do you know, husband, sometimes I wonder whether Sprawley can really be my cub. If I could only count them I might find out. If there were only one and one I could count them, but there are more than one and one.”
“Well,” said Father Bear, “I should think that would be easy. Let’s see. There’s Dumpy, and he’s one, and Fatty, and she’s one, and Sprawley, and he’s one. And now how many does that make?”
“Oh dear!” said the Mother Bear, “Don’t ask me. My head’s all of a whirl already.”
“Then you’d better go to sleep, my dear,” said her husband. “The next thing you know you’ll be having a headache to-morrow. You think too much.”
“Yes,” said the Mother Bear, sighing, “That’s so; I suppose I do think too much, but then I can’t help it. I always was thinking ever since I was a cub. It’s the way I’m made. Good-night.”
“Good-night,” said the Father Bear, and then they, too, went to sleep.