“She’ll grow up to be a big girl some day, I hope,” said their father. “But you’re all in such a hurry you won’t let me finish explaining. Besides having a nice meaning, we like Dorothea because there’s such a pretty way of shortening it. We’re going to call your little sister ‘Dolly.’”
“That’s not difficult,” said Mary. “Only it seems as if she was a dolly.”
“No it doesn’t,” said Leigh. “Your dolls have all got their own names. I like Dolly very much, papa, and I think we’ll better call her it now. ‘Baby’ is so common, there’s such lots of babies.”
“There’s a baby at the baker’s shop,” said Artie, who did not like being left out of the conversation. “It’s a lot bigger than our baby, it goes in a sitting-up perambulator all alone.”
“Dear me,” said his father. “How very curious! I should like to see it! We shall be having babies riding tricycles next.”
Artie stared, he did not understand, but Leigh began to laugh.
“How funny you are, papa,” he said. “Of course, Artie doesn’t mean that it pushes itself along, though I think that pushing a perambulator is very stupid. If I had a baby I know what I’d do.”
“On the whole, I’d rather not be your baby, I think, Leigh. But if we’re going to the smithy this morning, we’d better set off. Run and get ready, boys.”
Leigh and Artie scampered off, and their father was following them, when a sudden sound made him stop short. It was a wail from Mary.
“What is the matter, my darling?” he said, turning back to her.