But he never said a word about them.
He just talked--because he'd got to talk.

I knew it, and it made me laugh inside, though all the while it made me sort of want to cry, too.

Funny, wasn't it?
After a time he didn't talk any more, but just walked on and on; and by and by we came home.
Of course, it wasn't awfully jolly--that walk wasn't; and I guess Father didn't think it was either.

Anyhow, he hasn't asked me to go again this week, and he looked tired and worried and sort of discouraged when he got back from that one.
But he's asked me to do other things.

The next day after the walk he asked me to play to him.