“Of course,” was the thoughtless reply.
“Then why didn’t he see Carrie Pendleton’s father do it—do whatever he says he did?”
“Good gracious alive!” ejaculated Miss Titus. “Was there ever such a child for asking questions? I should think your jaws ’ud ache trying to find out things.”
“They don’t,” said Dot, rather hurt.
“And I should think,” went on the seamstress, “that you had asked so many questions that there wasn’t another thing in this world for you to learn. Is there anything that you really don’t know, that you’d like to have me tell you, Dorothy Kenway?”
Dot brightened tremendously. She became quite eager.
“Oh, yes, Miss Titus! There’s one thing that’s been bothering me for a long time and nobody—nobody can’t seem to tell me.”
“Tell Miss Titus, honey,” said the woman, who really loved the little girl, after all. “Maybe I can give you the answer.”
“Well, then,” said Dot, coming nearer to lean against the woman’s knee, “tell me, will you please, why it is little fishes don’t drown before they grow up and learn to swim?”