“Now a story, Stumpy, a story!” cried both children, together, and Ronald added quickly, “The ‘White Slipper.’”
“‘White Slipper’? No, that too long. Your father say come home one hour. Mother have dinner ready.”
“Oh! oh!” with dismal groans. “We thought you’d ask us to dinner.”
“I would ask, sure I would, but your father boss, you know. He my boss, your boss—Good sailor mind his boss, you bet.”
“Well, then, what will you tell us?” asked Ronald, climbing on his knee. “I haven’t hardly heard a story since I lived in this country.”
Stumpy looked at him with a twinkle in his eye. “Since you lived in this country, hey? But that not very long, you know. Well, I tell you a sea-story, one I know, me, one I see myself—one about a cat.”
“A cat!” exclaimed Lesley. “I thought they didn’t like water!”
“It is true,” said Stumpy; “if they did, there would be no story.”
“Tell-ery, tell-ery,
Stump-ery, tell-ery!”