“And if you don’t want it—or if you get tired of it,” said Freddie, “why, you can give it to me. Sammie Shull and I are going to get up a baseball nine.”
“All right,” his father said. “If I find it’s too small for me and the men—and it looks as if it might be too small—you may take it, Freddie.”
“Yes—that’s what I thought,” said the lad, while his father and mother smiled at each other.
“That’s my present to you,” said Flossie, pointing to the square box she had hidden in the stair closet. “I hope you’ll like it.”
Mr. Bobbsey took out the folding doll go-cart. First there was a puzzled look on his face. Then he smiled as he cried:
“Oh, I see, this is a new kind of necktie!”
“No, it isn’t!” protested Flossie.
“Then it must be an umbrella to keep off the rain,” went on the lumber merchant, pretending to be puzzled about the folding go-cart, though, all the while, he knew what it was.
“Oh, no, Daddy! ’Tisn’t an umbrella!” cried Flossie. “It’s a little carriage for my doll. You unfold it and bend out the wheels. Then, when you take me for a walk and I get tired of carrying my doll, you can put it in the go-cart and wheel her for me. I think that’s a nice present for you—isn’t it, Daddy?”
“It’s the most beautiful present I ever got!” declared her father, with a laugh, “and I’m going to give you a kiss for it. I must also kiss Freddie for the baseball. That was a fine present, too! That is, unless my little fireman is too big to be kissed?” and Mr. Bobbsey looked at Freddie a moment after he had kissed Flossie.