"For your bandits! What do you mean?"
"Why, we are going to have a lovely play—Rock made it up—and we can't have any bandits unless we have heads for them, and I said potatoes would do, because they have eyes. May we have half a dozen?"
Mrs. Dallas smiled. "Yes, but you must not ask Sylvy or Bubbles to get them for you."
"I'll get them if you will tell me where they are."
"They are down in the cellar. Please, Dimple, don't bother me again. Try to play without coming up after things all the time."
"Yes, mamma," Dimple replied, very meekly. "I wouldn't have come this time if it had been for anything but the bandits."
Mrs. Dallas let her go, and then called her back, for she had seen a little wistful look in the child's face when her mother spoke shortly. "Come, kiss me, dear," she said. "I want you to know that you are quite welcome to the potatoes. They will make very inexpensive and harmless playthings, and I hope your bandits will turn out just as you want them to."
Dimple gave her a grateful hug.
"You may stop in the kitchen and get a turnover apiece for you three children. Tell Sylvy I said you might."
"Oh, mamma, how dear you are," and the happy little face disappeared.