They sat there in the grass wondering what to do next when Dimple
exclaimed, "There comes papa with Mr. Coulter,--he's the carpenter, you
know--I wonder what he is going to do. See, Mr. Coulter is measuring the
ground, and papa is explaining something. I can tell by the way he
keeps doing so, with his hand. He always does that when he is
explaining. Help me up, Florence, and let's go over there and see what's
going on. Papa must mean to have something built. I hope it isn't a
fence. No, it can't be that, for it would be too near the other one.
Isn't it funny to watch men talking? They do so many funny things. Mr.
Coulter keeps nodding his head like a horse."
Florence laughed and they made their way over to where the two men
stood. As soon as they were within speaking distance, Dimple began to
put her questions. "Are you going to build something, papa? What is it?
Please don't say it's a fence, or a--a pig-sty."
Mr. Coulter chuckled as he went on laying his foot-rule along the
ground.
"I hope it won't turn into a pig-sty," Mr. Dallas replied, with a smile.
"It won't unless little pigs get into it."
"Are you going to keep little pigs?" Dimple asked.
"I didn't say so."
"Oh, papa, you are so mystiferious. I wish you would tell us all about
it. What are you going to build? Any sort of house?"
"Yes, one sort of house.
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