“I will be a good baby!” said she. “But I want my dindin!”
He could have torn his hair. He could not fail Amy now. And he could not leave a good baby alone and hungry, for he did not know how long.
“Shall I take it to the house?” he thought. “The cook would feed it. But—perhaps it’s another of these damned mysteries. I haven’t time to think it out now. I’d better keep it here until I’ve thought a bit. See here, Lily, what do you eat?”
“Dindin,” Lily answered.
“Yes, I know. But—I’ve got bread. Will that do?”
“I like bread and thugar!” she agreed.
He hurried into the kitchen, cut four good, sturdy slices of bread, covered them well with butter and sugar, and brought them back on a plate. Then, with a vague memory of a puppy he had once had, he thought of water, and brought a glassful.
“Now I’ve got to go, Lily,” he explained. “But I’ll come back as soon as I can. You just wait, see?”
“I will!” she said, pleasantly, and held out her arms.
He hesitated for a moment, half frightened; then he caught up the funny little doll and kissed its cheek.