One of the other--back--corners is mine; and here I have my
"gymnasium,"--my Indian clubs and dumb-bells; here, too, are my tennis
racket (I love to play!) and two old walking-canes with which (when I
can get him to do it) Jack and I fence,--dear me! I wonder if I shall
have to give _that_ up too, now that I have given that promise to
Nannie! Then comes our sofa: it's an old-fashioned, chintz-covered
affair, with a high back and high arms that stick straight out at each
end, and it's dreadfully shabby now; but all the same there isn't one of
us--except, perhaps, Nora--that would be willing to exchange it for the
handsomest piece of furniture that could be offered us. The times we've
played house and shipwreck, and gone journeys on it, and romped and
pranced all over it, can't be counted! This is Jack's favourite place to
sit and read; and under it, concealed from public view by the deep
chintz flounce that runs around the front and sides of the sofa, are
stored his treasures,--his books and stamp album, a queer-looking boat
that he has been building for ages, and a toy steam engine with which he
is always experimenting, but which, so far, absolutely refuses to "go.
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