Silvia paused at the door opening on to the veranda.
“I can’t see him,” she said faintly, closing her eyes. “You’ll have to tend to it alone, Lucien.”
Beth was already at the telephone, which connected with the country doctor’s. Rob joined me. We located our window, 191 and began hunting underneath for the pieces.
“Where in the world do you suppose he landed?” asked Rob.
Just then the missing one came around the house clasping a bologna sausage in his fist.
“Ye Gods and little Polydores!” exclaimed Rob.
I caught Diogenes by the arm and rushed him in to Silvia.
I found her in company with an old colored mammy, who was laundress for the hotel.
“Sho’,” she was saying, “I done gwine by de windah with ma baby cab full o’ cloes, an’ dis yer white chile done come tumblin’ down an’ fall right in ma cab. Now, what do you think o’ dat? I reckon I was nevah so done clean skeert afoah in ma life. An’ ef de chile didn’t grab one 192 of ma bolognas and done git out de cab an’ run around de house.”
“Oh,” cried Silvia, “poor little baby! Come to mudder. Lucien, where are you going with him?”