“We drink milk,” promptly.
“An’ what else?”
“We play with balls—I’ll show you after dinner.”
“I want you to show me now.”
His father interposed. “Aunt Janey’s tired. Wait till she’s had her dinner.”
Junior drank his milk thoughtfully. “I’m a kitty—and you’re a cat. Why don’t you drink milk, too, Aunt Janey?”
Jane smiled at Bob. “Do I have to answer all his questions?”
“Whether you do or not, he’ll keep on asking.”
But after dinner, Junior went to sleep in Jane’s arms, having been regaled on a rapturous diet of “The Three Bears” and “The Little Red Hen.”
“They’re such beauties, Judy,” said Jane, as she went back to her sister. “But they don’t look like any of the Barnes.”