The Judge nodded. “I will tell you about it presently.”
When the two boys and the little girl were excused from the table, and got up to go to school, there were simultaneous squeals of laughter from them. Their shoes were all slipping off their feet.
“It’s that cute little baby,” observed Bethany, “he’s untied all our shoes.”
“Mine are not only untied, but off my feet,” said Berty, unconcernedly. “Perhaps Higby will be good enough to find them.”
The old man, who was grinning with delight over the baby’s antics, found one in the coal hod. The other was discovered an hour later out in the yard, where it had been carried by Bylow the dog, he having probably picked it up in the back hall, where it had been thrown by Tom, junior.
“Why, I believe,” said the Judge, shuffling his feet about, “that the little rascal has untied my laces. Dallas, just look before you leave the room. I dislike fussing with my feet after I am fully dressed.”
Dallas went down on his knees, neatly fastened the Judge’s laces, and put his feet on a stool where they would be slightly out of baby’s way.
“Who is going to take Bethany to school this morning?” asked the Judge.
“It’s my turn,” replied Titus.
“Good-bye, Daddy Grandpa,” said the little girl, coming to kiss him.