"It is the warmest, and Hugh is rather delicate, and may feel it cold here.

And the tapestry room is not far from yours, my little Jeanne, so you can keep your toys and books together.

There is only one thing I do not quite understand in the letter," went on Jeanne's mother, turning to her husband as she always did in any difficulty--he was so much older and wiser than she, she used to say.

"Hugh's grandfather says Hugh has begged leave to bring a pet with him, and he hopes I will not mind.

What can it be?
I cannot read the other word." "A little dog probably," said Jeanne's father, putting on his spectacles as he took the letter from his wife, "a pet--gu--ga--and then comes another word beginning with 'p.' It almost looks like 'pig,' but it could not be a pet pig.