"You express my feelings perfectly, Cherry," said March, gravely, and the guessing began.
"A St. Bernard puppy?" said Budd, who coveted one.
"A Shetland pony," said Cherry.
"The Doctor's coming up here, himself." That was Rose's guess.
"'T ain't likely," growled Budd.
"A tunning 'ittle baby," chirped May.
March failed to think of any live thing the Doctor was likely to send unless it might be a Wyandotte blood-rooster, such as he and the Doctor had talked about last summer.
"You're all cold, cold as ice," laughed their mother, using the words of the game she had so often played with them when they were younger.
"Oh, mother!" they protested. They were almost indignant.
Chi rose and left the table. "Beats me," he muttered, as he took down his axe from a beam in the woodshed. "What in thunder can it be? I ain't goin' to ask questions, but I'll ferret it out,—by George Washin'ton;" and that was Chi's most solemn oath.
