“It’s my mamma’s,” said Neddie.
“Is it? He’s a very pretty dog. What’s his name?”
“He hasn’t got any name. He’s a picture,” said Tom.
“Oh, yes; he has a name. His name is—Rover. Is not that a pretty name? Come and sit down by the window, and I will tell you a story about a dog named Rover. You like stories, don’t you?”
They came slowly forward and stood beside her.
“Well, Neddie,” she said to Tom. “Are you Neddie?”
“No; I’m Tom. That’s Neddie.”
“Oh! that’s Neddie, is it? Well, Tom and Neddie, I’m going to tell you a story about Rover. Only we must speak low, and not disturb your mamma and baby sister. What’s the baby’s name, I wonder?”
“It’s baby,” said Neddie.
“Yes; but she must have another name besides baby.”