Mary, who did not like to be called asilly girl.
"And when she was big," said Leigh, "how would she like to be called`baby'?"
Mary had not thought of this, still she would not give in.
"Peoples has the same names," she said. "Papa's name's `Leigh,' andyour name's `Leigh,'--there now--" and as another idea struck her, "andus _all_ is called Bertum. Papa's Mr Bertum and mamma's Mrs Bertumand--and--"
"And you're `Miss Bertum,'" said Leigh, laughing. "But that's becauseBertram is our _family_ name, you see, Mary. We've each got a firstname too. It doesn't much matter papa and me being the same, exceptthat sometimes I think mamma's calling me when she means papa, but itwould never do if Artie and I had the same name. Fancy, if we were bothcalled `Artie,' we'd never know which you meant."
"No," said Mary, laughing too, "it would be a very bad plan. I neverthought of that. But I _can't_ think of a pitty name for dear littlebaby."
"There's lots," said Artie, who had been sitting very silent--to tellthe truth, he had forgotten all about choosing a name, but he did notwant to say so. So he had been thinking of all the names he could, sothat he might seem quite as ready as Leigh. "There's Cowslip andButtercup and Firefly and--"
"Nonsense," said Leigh, "considering you're six years old, Artie, you'resillier than Mary. Those are cows' names, and--"
"They're not--not all of them," said Artie, "Firefly's a pony's name.It's little Ella Curry's pony's name, and I think it's very pretty."
"For a pony perhaps," said nurse, "but then you see, Master Artie, yourlittle sister isn't a pony."
"I wish she was," said Leigh, and when nurse looked up astonished helooked rather ashamed. "Of course I don't mean that it isn't nice forher to be a little girl," he went on, "but I do so wish we had a pony."
"You may just be patient for a while, Master Leigh," said nurse; "youknow your papa's promised you a pony when you're ten years old, and bythat time baby will be nearly two."
"That won't matter," said Leigh, "even Mary won't be able to ride mypony. It's to be a real sensible one, not a stupid donkey sort of pony,with panniers or a basket on its back."
"No," said Artie, "it's to be a galoppy-trot one! Won't we make him go,Leigh."
"I shall," said Leigh; "you won't have much to say to it. You'll be toolittle too."
Artie's face fell. Mary, who was sitting beside him, slipped her littlehand into his.
"Nebber mind, Artie," she said. "We'll ask papa to give us anoder pony.A very gentle one for you and me and baby."
"A perambulator will be more in baby's way," said nurse. "Miss Mary'sold one is quite worn out and they do make such pretty ones nowadays. Ihope your mamma will get her a very nice one."
"And may we push it sometimes?" said Artie, brightening up again, "thatwould be nice."
Leigh gave a little laugh.
"What a baby you are, Artie," he was beginning, but nurse, who saw thathe was in one of his teasing humours, looked up quickly.
"It's such a fine evening," she said, "and it's scarcely five o'clock.How would you like to go out a little walk? We didn't go very farto-day. We might go as far as the Lavender Cottages, I've something totake there from your mamma."
The boys looked very pleased.
"Oh yes, nurse," they said, "do let's go out."
"And mayn't we stop and see the puppies at the smithy on the way?"Leigh went on.
"I'm f'ightened of those little barky dogs," said Mary; "I don't want togo out, nurse, I'm sleepy."
"It'll do you good, my dear, to have a little walk before you go to bed;you'll sleep all the better for it and wake all the fresher in themorning," and a few minutes afterwards, when the little party werewalking down the drive, Mary looked quite bright again.
It was a very lovely evening. The way to the Lavender Cottages layacross the fields, and, as every one knows, there is nothing prettierthan a long stretch of grass land with the tender spring green lightedup by late afternoon sunshine.
Mary trotted along contentedly, thinking to herself.
"My birfday's going to bed soon," she thought, "and to-morrow morningit'll be gone--gone away for a long, long time," and she gave a littlesigh. "But somefins won't be gone away, all my birfday presents willstay, and baby sister will stay, and when my birfday comes back again itwill be hers too. Dear little baby sister! I wish her had comed out awalk wif us, the sun is so pitty."
The smithy was at the foot of the road leading up to the cottages, justopposite the stile by which they left the fields. This stile had threesteps up and three steps down, with a bar of wood to clamber across atthe top. It was one of the children's favourite stiles, as the boysalways pretended that the bar was a pony on which they had a ride on theway over. To-day nurse and Mary waited patiently till they had riddenfar enough. Then Artie hopped down the other side and Leigh stood atthe top to help his sister over, for though he was a teasing boysometimes, he never forgot that she was a little girl and that it washis place to take care of her.
"Leigh," said Mary, as he was lifting her down, "I is so f'ightened ofthose little dogs! Please don't go to see them."
"How can you be frightened of them, Mary?" said Leigh. "It's reallyvery silly! They're only baby dogs, don't you understand; they couldn'thurt anybody."
This was quite a new idea to Mary, and she stopped short on the secondstep of the stile to think about it.
"_Baby_ dogs," she said, "I never thought little dogs was babies. Isthere babies of everything, Leigh?"
"Of course there are. Don't you remember the baby ducks? And thelittle lambs are baby sheep, and even the tiny buds are baby flowers."
"And _babies_ never hurts nobody, does they?" said Mary, as she gotsafely to the ground again with the help of her brother's hand. "Then Iwon't be f'ightened, Leigh, of the little doggies. You may take me tosee them," and as Leigh hurried on to the smithy, which he thought themost delightful place in the world, Mary trotted beside him as fast asher little legs could go, holding firmly to him while she said over toherself, though in rather a trembling voice--
"I never thought them was _baby_ dogs, _babies_ don't hurt nobody."
Yakeman the smith was standing in front of his forge, taking a restafter the day's work.
"Good-evening, Master Leigh," he said, as the children came up to him."Come for a look at the puppies, sir? They're getting on finely. WouldMissie like to see them too?" and he turned to open a little gateleading into his garden.
Leigh looked down at Mary, not quite sure what she would feel about it.Her face was rather red, and she pinched his hand more tightly.
"Would you like to see them, Mary?" he asked.
"Oh, yes, I'm not f'ightened now," she answered bravely.
"You've no call to be afear'd," said Yakeman, as he led the way.
"No," said Mary, "'cos them's only babies."
The puppies were all tumbling over each other in a comfortable nest ofhay in the corner of a shed. There were four of them, brown curlyballs, nearly as soft and fluffy as Leigh's favourite ducklings.
Yakeman stooped down and picked one up with his big hand and held itclose to Mary. She stroked it gently with the very tip of her fingers.
"It _are_ sweet," she said, with a rather shaky little laugh, and as noharm came of her touching it, she grew still braver.
"May I kiss its little head?" she said, looking up at the tallblacksmith, who smiled down on her.
"To be sure, Missie," said he, so Mary buried her nose in the brown fur,suddenly giving a little cry as she felt something warm and wet on hercheek.
"He's licking you," said Leigh; "I dare say he means it for kissingthough. I say, Mary, wouldn't it be nice if papa would let us have apuppy for our very own."
"A baby puppy and a baby sister," said Mary. "Did you know us had got ababy sister?" she went on, to the smith. "Her comed to-day 'cos it weremy birfday."
"That was a fine birthday present," said Yakeman, "and you'd be welcometo this puppy if your papa wou
ld allow you to have it. I've promisedtwo and I'm keeping one myself, but this here I'd not settled about."
Mary's