"Well, I can't just say, old fellow," he demurred. "You see, I hadn't fixed that."
"But they allus does in my Mummy's 'tories," came the instant protest.
"Do they? Well, then I guess these'll have to," the man agreed. "We'll fix it that way."
"'Ess. An' then——"
But the prompting failed in its purpose.
"An' then? Why—I guess that's just all. You see, when folks get married, and live happy ever after, there's most generally no more story to tell. Is there?"
"No." Then the child sat up. His appetite had been whetted. "Tell boy 'nother 'tory. Great big, long one. Ever so long."
Steve shook his head.
"Guess Uncle Steve's not great on yarns," he admitted. "You see, I was kind of thinking. Say, how'd boy like to go with Uncle Steve, and see the nice Auntie, and the little dear, with lovely, lovely curly hair and blue eyes, and cheeks like—like——"
"'Ess. Us goes," the child cried, with a sudden enthusiasm. "Us finds all the lakes, an' rivers, an' forests, an' wolves, an' bears, an' the little dear. Boy likes 'em. Us goes now?"