Another
field or two sufficiently quieted both animals--I did not want to have all
our time taken up with their frolics--and then we began to talk.
"You are getting quite a woman now, Connie, my dear," I said.
"Quite an old grannie, papa," she answered.
"Old enough to think about what's coming next," I said gravely.
"O, papa! And you are always telling us that we must not think about the
morrow, or even the next hour. But, then, that's in the pulpit," she added,
with a sly look up at me from under the drooping feather of her pretty hat.
"You know very well what I mean, you puss," I answered. "And I don't say
one thing in the pulpit and another out of it."
She was at my horse's shoulder with a bound, as if Spry, her pony, had been
of one mind and one piece with her. She was afraid she had offended me. She
looked up into mine with as anxious a face as ever I saw upon Wynnie.
"O, thank you, papa!" she said when I smiled. "I thought I had been rude. I
didn't mean it, indeed I didn't. But I do wish you would make it a little
plainer to me. I do think about things sometimes, though you would hardly
believe it."
"What do you want made plainer, my child?" I asked.
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