"Oo! How good!" she exclaimed, not nibbling conventionally, but taking big bites. "'Cause I hate cake!"
The next moment she became aware of the munching of others. And on looking round, found that she was back at the Den. She was not surprised. Things had a way of coming to pass in a pleasantly instantaneous fashion. And she was glad to see the little old gentleman, the Piper and the Policeman each fairly gobbling up a pellet. Miss Royle was eating, too, and Jane was stuffing both mouths.
But Puffy was having quite different fare. In front of him stood the Doctor, busily feeding filmy white bits into the tear just under a fore-leg.
"I think you'll find," assured the latter, "that a proper amount of cotton-batting is most refreshing."
"Once I wanted Jane to take me to the Doll Hospital," complained Puffy, his shoe-button eyes hard with resentment; "but she said I was only a little beast."
Gwendolyn looked severe. "Jane, you'll be sorry for that," she scolded.
"Ah-ha! my dear!" said the Man-Who-Makes-Faces, addressing the nurse, "at last one of your chickens is coming home to roost!"
Gwendolyn glanced up. And, sure enough, a chicken was going past—a small blue hen, who looked exceedingly fagged. (This was an occurrence worth noting. How often had she heard the selfsame remark—and never seen as much as a feather!)
Jane also saw the blue hen. And appeared much disconcerted. "I think I'll take forty winks," she hummed; "—twenty for the front face, and twenty for the back." Whereupon she made a few quick revolutions, landing up against the granite base of the obelisk.
The Doctor had been sewing up the tear in Puffy's coat. Now he finished his seam and knotted the thread. "There!" said he, cheerily. "You're as good as new!"