`Anton, Yulka, Nina, where
are you all? Run, Anna, and hunt for the boys. They're off looking for
that dog, somewhere. And call Leo. Where is that Leo!' She pulled them
out of corners and came bringing them like a mother cat bringing in her
kittens. `You don't have to go right off, Jim? My oldest boy's not here.
He's gone with papa to the street fair at Wilber. I won't let you go!
You've got to stay and see Rudolph and our papa.' She looked at me
imploringly, panting with excitement.
While I reassured her and told her there would be plenty of time, the
barefooted boys from outside were slipping into the kitchen and gathering
about her.
`Now, tell me their names, and how old they are.'
As she told them off in turn, she made several mistakes about ages, and
they roared with laughter. When she came to my light-footed friend of the
windmill, she said, `This is Leo, and he's old enough to be better than he
is.'
He ran up to her and butted her playfully with his curly head, like a
little ram, but his voice was quite desperate. `You've forgot! You always
forget mine. It's mean! Please tell him, mother!' He clenched his fists
in vexation and looked up at her impetuously.
She wound her forefinger in his yellow fleece and pulled it, watching him.
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