"Horace, you were telling me last night about Mr. Lazelle: what did you say was the color of his coat?"
"I said it was blueberry color," replied Horace, who could see, almost without looking up, that aunt Louise was smiling at aunt Madge.
"He is a musicianer too, I think you said, and his hair crimps. Dear me, what a funny man!"
Horace was silent, and made up his mind that he should be careful another time what he said before aunt Louise.
Soon after breakfast he and Pincher went "up-attic" to see what they could find, while Grace followed her grandmother and aunties from parlor to kitchen, and from kitchen to pantry. She looked pale and tired, but was so happy that she sang every now and then at the top of her voice, forgetting that little Katie was having a nap.
Pretty soon Horace came down stairs with an old, rusty gun much taller than himself. Mrs. Clifford was shocked at first, but smiled the next moment, as she remembered what an innocent thing it was, past its "prime" before she was of Horace's age.
The little boy playfully pointed the gun towards Grace, who screamed with fright, and ran away as fast as she could.
"I don't care," cried she, coming back, a little ashamed at being laughed at; "how did I know it wasn't loaded? Do you think 'twould look well for a little girl not to be afraid of a gun?"
This speech amused everybody, particularly Horace, who was glad to have Grace say a foolish thing once in a while. It raised his self-esteem somehow; and, more than that, he liked to remember her little slips of the tongue, and tease her about them.
It was not long before he had seen all there was to be seen in the house, and wanted to "do something." As for reading, that was usually too stupid for Horace. Grace kindly offered to play checkers with him; but she understood the game so much better than he did, that she won at every trial.