CHAPTER VI.
THE LITTLE HOUSEKEEPERS.
THE lamb speedily became accustomed to his new home. When Thekla brought him food, he would cuddle close, and lick her fingers, bleating softly. Before long he was grown so tame that, if Max seized his two fore feet and waltzed round the room, he made no objection, but frisked funnily, as if enjoying the joke. Best of all, however, he loved to lie beside Grandfather’s chair, within reach of his stroking hand. The old man found continual pleasure in the gentle creature, whose wool was scarcely whiter than his own snowy hair. With the serene faith of old age, he asked no questions as to the new possession, but accepted it calmly and without wonderment; for Grandfather was getting very old.
“You should have seen Dotty, with her sleeves rolled up, sweeping away for dear life, and ordering ‘dear’ about.”
As for Thekla, she thought there was never a lamb like this. For his sake, she loved all lambs; and often, at her wheel, would sing the “Lamb Song,” with which babies are hushed to sleep. It ran something like this:—
“Lambs in the daisies,
Whiter than they;
So in her snowy bed,
Tossing her golden head,