“They are a little too grave,” Walter said, comparing them with the glowing face beside him; “We must try again sometime.”
“And let’s have Trolley in it too,” Caro suggested.
“Why certainly, that is a good idea. Do you know Caro you remind me of my little sister.”
“Do you mean Annette?”
“Why what can you know about her?” Walter asked in surprise.
“Grandpa told me. I asked him who lived in your house—and then I saw her window in the chapel—the Good Shepherd you know. Grandpa said she was a dear little girl. Do I truly look like her!”
“Yes, there is something in your face and smile that is like her;” Walter looked thoughtfully at the picture.
“Won’t you please tell me about her?” begged Caro.
And so while Thompson wheeled his master up and down the garden paths, she walked beside him and listened to the story of those days when the gate now nailed up was always open, and merry girls and boys ran back and forth.
“What nice times you did have!” Caro exclaimed, pressing the palms of her hands together. “I wish we could do some of those lovely things. Couldn’t we have a picnic and have a fire and roast potatoes and corn?”