"I can make bread and cook meat and potatoes, but cake is beyond my skill. It takes women-folks to do such work." The old man laughed softly as he put the cookies away in the cupboard.
"It is a lovely evening. Won't you come out on the porch and tell us stories in the twilight?"
As Lucy spoke, she reached up and put her arms around Uncle Sam's neck. He was so tall he had to bend down to let her do so.
"I suppose you want me to tell you about Cinderella for the fiftieth time, or maybe you would rather hear about Aladdin and his Wonderful Lamp?"
"No, Uncle Sam," said Joe before Lucy had a chance to answer. "We are getting too big for fairy stories. We have just begun to study geography at school. We like it better than anything we've ever had. So Lucy and I have been talking it over. We said we would ask you to tell us true stories now about America, and the Indians, and the brave white people who first dared to come here, you know, and all such things."
Uncle Sam fairly beamed with delight.
"I've been thinking of that very thing, children. I have been longing for the time when you would like to hear some of the history of this glorious country. You will like it, too. Why, it is better than any fairy stories that ever were told."
In five minutes more the old man was sitting in his big easy chair on the porch. Lucy was perched on one of the broad arms of the chair, and Joe on the other.
"We are all ready, so please begin," said Lucy, coaxingly.
"Very well. Shut your eyes for a minute so you cannot look at those rows of hollyhocks in front of you. I want you to see a different picture. You must take a peep at this country of ours before a white man ever set foot on it."