"You will find other playthings on the other side," said her father, fondly putting his arm round her and drawing her up to him.
"Will they be as good as chickens? What will they be?"
"Yes, there, 'what will they be,' she asks! I do believe that Dolly has no idea," Mrs. Copley remarked.
"She will find out soon enough," said Mr. Copley contentedly.
"What will they be, father?" Dolly repeated, making for the present a plaything of her father's head; for both her soft arms were around it, and she was touching first one side and then the other side with her own cheeks. Mr. Copley seemed to enjoy the play, for he gave himself up to it luxuriously and made no answer.
"Dolly has been long enough in Philadelphia," Mrs. Copley went on. "It is time she was away."
"So I think."
"Father," said Dolly now, "have I done with going to school?"
There ensued a debate upon this question; Dolly herself taking the negative and her mother the affirmative side. She wanted her daughter at home, she said.
"But not till I am fit to be at home, mother?"