“Hello, Bartholomew,” she said. “Where are you going?” Little Bartholomew continued to march. “I am running away.” He didn’t seem to be running, more going for a strengthening stroll, but stubbornness was another trait that Little Bartholomew had inherited from his mother, and if he had resolved to run away, away he was liable to run. At least until something distracted him. “Why are you running away?” “Because Mama is leaving and will not take me with
