“Three!”
“Five. The story of the Five Bears. Don’t I know?”
“Wasn’t there only three Bears?” said Master Jack, who had caught the now amused glance of Mademoiselle Duvernoy.
“Three—yes.”
“There—you see!” exclaimed the youngster. “And—and wasn’t she called Snow-White?”
“She was.”
“There!”
“Then they’re not the same Bears,” said I, in pretended wrath. “My Bears are American Bears. There was Father Growler and Mother Gruff—that makes two—and Grumble Bear and Guzzle Bear—and that makes four—and then there was Tinkle Bear—”
“That makes five!”
“I resign,” I said, with tremendous dignity. “Tell it your own way.”