Too polite to say so, Mrs. Crane hoped fervently that Dave would forget that promise; she was quite certain that she wouldn't enjoy eating a "good fat muskrat," or even a very thin one.
CHAPTER XXIII
Billy's Memory
WHILE Mrs. Crane was supplying Dave with a bountiful meal, the girls were telling Billy about Rosa Marie, Marjory, Aunty Jane, the porcupine—in short, all the news of that eventful day. Billy, with brightening eyes, was certainly enjoying it all, particularly the part about Terrible Tim.
"Once," began Billy, reminiscently, "when I was a kid I saw——"
But what Billy had seen could only be guessed, for the brightness slipped from his eyes and he pulled the corner of his blanket over his face.
"I can't remember a blamed thing," he mumbled, with a catch in his throat.
"Cheer up," teased Henrietta, gently. "Nobody 'd want to remember anything that looks like Terrible Tim. But when you see him, you'll probably remember what you were going to say. Did they tell you that you're to come outside to-morrow and lie in a hammock with soft-boiled eggs? Oh, I mean you're to eat the eggs. Aren't you glad?"
"I like eggs," said the boy, uncovering one eye. "Chicken, too, and roast beef."