“All right,” said the Crocodile; “where are the things?”
“What things?” asked Girlie in a surprised voice.
“Why, the things for tea, of course,” said the Crocodile.
“But I haven’t any,” said Girlie; “I thought that you asked me to take tea with you,” she continued.
The old Crocodile burst into tears.
“I think it most cru-cru-cruel of you,” he sobbed, “to raise my ho-ho-ho-hopes in this way only to dis-dis-dis-ap-ap-ap-point me. You said you were going to have eggs,” he cried tearfully, referring to the slate, “and ca-ca-cake, and ja-ja-jam;” and the poor old thing was quite overcome with grief.
“Oh, please don’t cry,” said Girlie, who felt quite sorry for him; “I am disappointed, too, you know.”
The Crocodile dried his eye (the other one was covered with the bandage) and began to brighten up a little.
“I know what we’ll do,” he said at length. “Do you ever have tea for breakfast?”
“Yes,” said Girlie, “I don’t care for coffee.”