kind to you, requests that I allow you to play with her grandson for an hour. You may do so. But put on your cloak and hat and over-*shoes, if you have them."
"I haven't, Uncle Joe. But I don't need them. My shoes are as thick as thick. See? Oh, I'm so glad. I never rode on a red sled in all my life, and now I'm going to. Once my papa rode on sleds. He and you—I mean that other uncle, away up in New York somewhere. He's seen snow as high as my head, my papa has. I never. I never saw only the teeniest-teeniest bit before. It's lovely, just lovely. If it wasn't quite so cold. To ride on a sled, a sled, like papa!"
Josephine was anything but quiet now. She danced around and around the room, pausing once and again to hug her uncle, who submitted to the outbursts of affection with wonderful patience, "considerin'," as Peter reflected.
"What did you ride on, the other side the map?" asked Michael, laying his hand on her arm to stop her movements.
