“Let’s hear about Beachamwell,” said John, when he could speak.
“I’ve told it,” said Carl, a little put out.
“Yes; and it was a pretty story, as ever I heard, or wish to hear,” said Mrs. Krinken, soothingly.
“Let’s hear the story of the shoes, then,” said John.
“I haven’t heard it yet,” said Carl.
“O, and you can’t tell it till you’ve heard it?” said his father.
“I haven’t heard any of ’em but three,” said Carl, “and I don’t know which to hear next.”
“The old stocking would tell you a rare story if it knew how,” said his father; “it could spin you a yarn as long as its own.”
“I’d rather hear the old pine-cone, John,” said his wife. “Ask the pine-cone, Carl. I wish it could tell, and I hear!”
“Which first?” said Carl, looking from one to the other.