Murrams paused in the act of washing his ears, with one paw held aloft. He began to sing, because he knew right well there was milk in that can, and that he would have a share of it.
Babs’s blue eyes had been on the smoke-grimed ceiling, but she lowered them now.
“Oh,” she said, “you’s tome back, has ’oo?”
“And Babs has been so good, hasn’t she?” said Ransey.
“Babs is dood, and Bob is dood, and Murrams is dooder. ’Ift (lift) me up twick, ’Ansey.”
Two plump little arms were extended towards her brother, and presently he was seated near the fire dressing her, as if he had been to the manner born.
There was a little face to wash presently, as well as two tiny hands and arms; but that could be done after they had all had breakfast.
“Oh, my!” cried Ransey Tansey; “look, Babs! Two turkey’s eggs in the bottom of the can!”
“Oh, my! ’Ansey,” echoed the child. “One tu’key’s egg fo’ me, and one fo’ ’oo.”
The door had been left half ajar, and presently about a yard of long neck was thrust round the edge, and the Admiral looked lovingly at the eggs, first with one roguish eye, then with the other.