Father shoved the big pile of papers aside and opened the door.
“Well, Sister,” he said, “what is the trouble? Has Liza fallen in the lake?”
“Father! No! Liza never does.”
“Then what is the trouble?”
Martha Mary put her arm about Father’s waist just as she always did when she wanted to ask him a favor. Father always would grant the favor then.
“Please,” she said. “Do you think you could do something for us?”
“Depends what, Sister.”
“Well, Mother Dear has gone to town and Flip has driven her to the train and we have played everything and don’t know what to do. So we thought, as long as Flip wasn’t here, you might be able to tell us a story. Do you think you could?”
Father laughed. “The fact is,” he said, “I’m afraid my stories would not interest you. You see, I don’t know anything about fairies. But I might try, I suppose——”
Before he had finished what he supposed, Martha Mary had danced down the hall and back she came with the whole Sherman family, including Hermit. It only needed Mother Dear and Flip to make the invasion of the den complete. Hermit was the oldest, so he chose the rug before the fire and Liza lay down by his side. Walter and Edward Lee each sat on an arm of Father’s Morris chair, Martha Mary sat on the floor with her head on Father’s knee, and John lay on his stomach before the fire and pulled Hermit’s tail.