“Of course it will,” said Mary. “I’d like it to be the same as the one in my animal book. ‘G’ for goats, with little goats drawing it.”
“We can’t have a goat,” said Leigh; “but we might have something. Of course it’s rubbish to harness a boy into a carriage, but—I’ve got something in my head.”
There was no time for Artie and Mary to ask him what he meant, for just then they saw their father coming out of the gate.
“I’ve kept you waiting a long time, I’m afraid,” he said. “Poor old Sweeting was so glad to see me, and when she begins talking, it goes on for a good while.”
“We didn’t mind, papa dear,” said Mary, slipping her hand into her father’s. “We’ve been speaking to the children in the next cottage. There’s such lotses of them. When you was a little boy, papa, did you have lotses of brothers and sisters—did you?”
“No, my pet, I hadn’t any at all,” papa answered. “That was rather sad, wasn’t it? But I had a very kind father and mother. Your grandfather died many years ago, but you know for yourselves how kind grandmother is.”
“Grandmother,” said Artie and Mary together, looking rather puzzled.
“I don’t understand,” said Mary, and Artie did not understand either, though he would not say so.
“How silly you are!” said Leigh; “of course grandmother is papa’s mother.”
“Oh,” said Mary, with a little laugh, “I never thought of that! I understand now. Then grandmother used to be a mamma!”