oss the
back of it. It was Lanos Bryant who had given us the book. Lanos Bryant
was the Butcher. It was an old Account Book. The front of it was all
mixed up with figurings. It was in the back of it that we were making
Our Book.

My Mother looked up. She smiled at us.

"Why, bless my heart," she said, "we mustn't forget about the children's
Book!"

"No such luck," said my Father.

Everybody smiled a little.

"What's the Book about?" said my Mother.

I looked at Carol. Carol looked at me. He nudged me to go on.

"It's about You!" I said. "And about Father! And about Jason the
Blacksmith! And about the Old Preacher. And about most anybody I guess
that would like to be About-ed!"

"Well--Well--Well," said my Mother. "And what is it for?"

"Oh, it's just for fun," I said. "But it's very important.--Just the
first instant anybody reads it he'll know all there is to know about
everybody without ever having to go and make calls on them! Everything
interesting about them I mean! Everything that really matters! Lots of
things that nobody would have guessed!"

"Mercy!" said my Mother. She stopped mending my Father and jumped right
up.

My Father jumped right up too!

"Oh, it isn't written yet!" I said. "It's only just begun!"

"O--h," said my Mother. And sat down again.

"We though maybe you and Father would help us," I said.

"O--h," said my Father. And sat down again too.

Carol began to laugh. I don't know why he laughed.

"It's--it's just a set of questions," I explained.

Carol opened the Book and found the questions.

"Just five or six questions," I explained. "All you have to do is to
answer the questions--and tell us how to spell it perhaps.--And then
that makes the Book!"

"It certainly sounds simple," said my Mother. She began mending my
Father very hard. "And what are some of the questions?" she asked.

"Well--the first question," I explained, "is 'What is your name?'"

My Mother gave a little giggle. She hushed my Father with her hand.

"Oh surely," she said, "there couldn't be any objection to telling these
pleasant children our names?"

"No--o," admitted my Father.

My Mother looked up. She twinkled her eyes a little as well as her
mouth.

"Our names are 'Father' and 'Mother'," she said.

Carol wrote the names in the Book. He wrote them very black and literary
looking. "Father" at the top of one page. And "Mother" at the top of
the other. They looked nice.

"All right then," sai