“Mew again, George Washington,” ordered Zaidie, “so I can find out where it comes from. If he mews in his mouth, I can put the oil on his tongue.”
A slight pinch immediately brought an answer from George Washington. Zaidie listened carefully, with her ear close at his head.
“It isn’t in his mouth,” she said, positively. “I think it’s down his throat. How can I oil him down there? I’m afraid I’ll hurt him if I stick this long end down.”
“Do you s’pose those little holes in his ears are oil-holes?” asked Helen, brightening.
IN THE NURSERY.
Zaidie immediately experimented with her tiny finger, much to George Washington’s disgust.
“They go pretty far down,” she said, soothing and petting him.
“Never mind, I’m not going to hurt you,” she said, reassuringly. “I’m just going to put some nice, soft oil down your little oil-holes, and then you’ll feel so better, you can’t think! Your voice is all rusty. ’Liza says things won’t go if they’re rusty, and bimeby your voice won’t go, and you’d be sorry, for you like to talk, you know.”
As she spoke, Zaidie tried to poke the oil-can down his ears. George Washington jerked away.