"I--I swallowed 'em," Dorothy volunteered at last, and burst into fresh lamentations.
"Swallowed what, dear?"
"The car'mels. I swallowed 'em quick. I didn't have time to eat 'em."
Peggy and her mother exchanged wide-eyed glances.
"Don't mind about that, dear," coaxed Peggy. "By and by, when you feel better, I'll make you some more candy."
Dorothy's sobs ceased with an abruptness that was uncanny. "Feel better now," she said.
"But where does it hurt, Dorothy?"
"Don't hurt. But I like butter-scotch better'n car'mels."
"You shall have butter-scotch, you precious. But where--" Peggy's solicitous inquiries were interrupted by Dorothy's clapping her hands and beginning to frisk about in a manner which set at ease conclusively any fear as to broken bones.
"It's struck into her brains most like," said Sally hopefully. "I knowed an idget boy onct. It was a fall striking into his brains that ailed him."