"Are you quite sure you're comfortable, Jack?" Winifred kept asking over and over again, while Betty looked anxiously into her brother's radiant face to make sure he was not getting tired.
It was a glorious spring afternoon, and the park had never looked more lovely. How Jack enjoyed it no words could describe.
"I don't believe mother's park was any more beautiful than this one," he said to Betty, as, in answer to a direction from Mrs. Hamilton the coachman turned the horses to go round a second time. "I haven't seen any deer, but there are sheep and swans."
"Where's your mother's park?" Winifred inquired, with pardonable curiosity.
Betty blushed and gave her brother a warning glance. Jack looked as if he had said something he was sorry for.
"It's a story mother tells us," he explained, "about a park she used to see when she lived in England. It was a beautiful park, and we love to hear about it."
"My friend Lulu Bell's father and mother used to live in England," said Winifred, "and she went there with them once for a visit. Did you ever live there?"
"No," answered Betty, Jack's attention having been called off for the moment by the sight of some new wonder, "father and mother came to this country before we were born."
"Has your father been long dead, dear?" Mrs. Hamilton asked kindly.
"He died six years ago, when I was only five. I don't remember him very well, and Jack doesn't remember him at all. Oh, Jack, look at that carriage without any horses. That's an automobile."