“We were a good while choosing the toys; among them, I remember, was a fine rocking-horse which my father was very anxious to hear what I thought of, for though I didn’t know it at the time, he meant it for me myself.”
“Like our old rocking-horse in the nursery?” asked Leigh.
Papa smiled.
“More than like it,” he said; “it is that very horse. I’ve kept it ever since, and I had it done up with a new mane and tail when you got big enough to ride it, Leigh.”
“Oh, how nice,” said Mary, “to think it’s papa’s own horse! But, please, go on with the story, papa.”
“Well, when we had chosen the horse and all the other things, my father had something else to buy that he thought I wouldn’t care about in the other part of the shop. And I think he wanted to tell them where to send the horse to without my hearing. He looked at his watch and seemed vexed to find it so late. He asked me if I should be afraid to run back to the hotel alone, and turned towards the door opening on to the back street, from which we could see the hotel as it faced the end of that small street. But I think he must have fancied that I looked a little frightened, for then he changed and pointed to the front door of the shop, telling me to stay there till he came back. He said it would amuse me to stand just outside in the entrance where I could both see the shop window and watch the carriages passing.
”‘But whatever you do, Charlie,’ he said, ‘don’t move from there till I come back for you!’”