"Why, that's only a little girl, aunt Madge!"
"My dear, it's only a cow!"
"O, now I remember; the little blue one, with brass knobs on her horns!"
"Let's see; do you remember Dr. Quack and his wife?"
"O, yes'm! they were white ducks; and how they did swim! It was a year ago. I suppose Horace doesn't remember."
"Poh! yes, I do; they were spin-footed!"
"Why, Horace," said Grace, laughing; "you mean web-footed!"
Horace bent his eyes on his plate, and did not look up again for some time.
There was chicken-salad on the table. Margaret made that—putting in new butter, because she knew Mrs. Clifford did not like oil.
There was delicious looking cake, "some that had been touched with frost, and some that hadn't," as grandpa said, when he passed the basket.