“You and I will contrive to find something for Aunt Zoe and Lu,” her father said to her in a low aside; at which she clapped her hands and laughed gleefully.
“Now we are going down to the library,” he continued, aloud, “shall I carry you there?”
“I’m afraid it will make you too tired, papa, to carry me up and down so often,” she answered, but with a longing, wistful look that plainly told her desire to be with others.
So, with the assurance that she was a very light burden and he enjoyed carrying her, he picked her up and bore her on after Zoe, while Lulu brought up the rear.
“We’ll soon have to make this journey again,” he said, “for it will be your bedtime in about half an hour.”
“O papa, can’t I stay up a while longer tonight?” she pleaded.
“If you were well and strong I should say yes without any hesitation,” he answered; “but I think you will find yourself weary enough to be glad to go to bed at the usual hour.”
And he was right; for though much interested at first in the talk that was going on among the older people, her eyelids presently began to droop, and her head dropped on her father’s shoulder, for she was sitting in her favorite place upon his knee.
“Ah, birdie, you are ready for your nest, I see,” he said, passing his hand softly over her golden curls; “papa will carry you up and put you in it.”
“Yes,” she murmured sleepily. “Lulu, won’t you come too?”