"She cries jest the same's they did."
"Look here, George Plummer, get up on your feet an' help me! This thing is growin' dangerous!"
Plums had no fear the princess would injure herself by crying; but his friend spoke so sternly that he decided it was wisest to obey the command, and a very sleepy-looking boy he was, as he stood yawning and rubbing his eyes, with an expression of discontent amounting almost to peevishness upon his face.
"There ain't anything either you or I can do. Youngsters have to yell jest about so much,—it makes 'em healthy,—an' she'll quiet down after a spell. Why don't you give her somethin' to eat?"
"I tried that, but she wouldn't take a single crumb. The trouble is, we haven't got what she wants. Now, if there was some milk in the house—"
"But there ain't, so what's the use thinkin' of that?"
"It must be near mornin', an' if there is a bakeshop anywhere 'round, you could get some."
"Do you want a feller to turn out in the night an' travel 'round the streets lookin' for milk?" Plums asked, indignantly.
"It is better to do that than have a dear little baby like this die."
"But there's no danger anything of that kind will happen. I've seen lots of worse scrapes than this, but they always ended up all right."