"Jinny's baking a cake I'm going to send for his birthday party.

Bring him in the house.

I've got something for him." She led the way to her "sitting-room," which had a pleasant smell, unlike any other smell, and, opening the drawer of a shining old what-not, took therefrom a boy's "sling-shot," made of a forked stick, two strips of rubber and a bit of leather.
"This isn't for you," she said, placing it in Penrod's eager hand.
"No.

It would break all to pieces the first time you tried to shoot it, because it is thirty-five years old.

I want to send it back to your father.