“Well, go on.”
“An’ then, he had to go—th’ boy did, for his father went back home, an’—”
“You hain’t told about th’ gingerbread boy, Ma,” old Mr. Beebe began to laugh again.
“That was th’ funniest of all,” said Mrs. Beebe, and she began to laugh, too.
“What was it?” cried the big woman impatiently. “You do so much laughin’, you an’ Mr. Beebe, it’s kinder slow work gettin’ along.”
“I know it, an’ you must ’xcuse me, Mis Goodsell,” said Mrs. Beebe, “but them childern—well, you see Phronsie always takes it to heart when she hears anybody’s sick, so she made a gingerbread boy an’ made ’em send it to Jasper’s father.”
“My goodness!—to a rich man—a gingerbread boy!” gasped Mrs. Goodsell.
“Yes, an’ you’d ’a’ thought ’twould ’a’ made him mad,” said Mrs. Beebe.
“Well, it did, didn’t it?” said Mrs. Goodsell, “a gingerbread boy!”
“Mad? Why, he just took to that gingerbread boy like a duck to water! An’ he come over to see Phronsie. An’ now you can’t think, they’re a-writin’ back an’ forth, Jasper an’ th’ childern.”