“Now I guess you're all ready,” Sister Julia remarked, wisely changing the subject, as she tucked the linen lap-robe close about Nan, so that her stiffly-starched little gingham dress should not puff out against the wheel.
“Where are the dogs?” asked Harry, looking forward to their establishment in his home with possibly as much interest as to that of their little master.
Regie gave a loud, shrill whistle. That was one of the few things he could do just as well as before he broke his leg, and so he seemed to take special delight in doing it. Hereward and Ned came bounding from some point back of the house, and Pet, seeming to understand that all was in readiness, started off of his own accord. Hereward and Ned, comprehending at once that they were to be allowed to follow, flew hither and yon in the wildest manner, bringing up at the cart every few minutes as if to report proceedings.
“Regie, why do you always say Papa Fairfax and Mamma Fairfax, instead of just papa and mamma?” Nan asked presently. Evidently she had been turning the matter over in her mind for some seconds.
“Because—because—” Regie hesitated,—“because, don't you know, I'm adopted.”
“'Dopted,” said the children, in one breath. Reginald nodded his head in the affirmative, and sat thoughtfully watching the sand as it fell from the wheel with each revolution. If he had looked into Nan's face or Harry's he would have seen a world of wonder in it.
Finally Nan said, in a very sympathetic way, as though she felt it must be something very dreadful,—
“I do not know just what being adopted means, but have you always been so?”
“Almost always. You see, Nan, my own father died when I was a little fellow, and then Papa Fairfax, who was my father's best friend, took me for his own little boy; and that being took is being adopted.”
In certain earnest moments Regie often forgot all about grammar.