“Dear me!” I said, “you’ve put too much water into it.”
“You eye,” he whined, “me bin spilt him, Missus.”
“Never mind,” I said, “I’ll stiffen it up for you,” and he positively beamed, as I added some more flour. To my surprise, he was back again in a few minutes, saying:
“Missus! Me bin spill him nuzzer time.”
Then I saw what he was scheming for. He wanted a big damper.
“You old rogue,” I said, “what do you mean, playing tricks on your Missus like this? You know you are doing it on purpose.”
He looked so astonished at being found out that I could not help laughing at him, and ended by stiffening his damper for him again.
He grinned into his tin with a very knowing air as he walked away, for he knew quite well that I was amused at his cuteness. When he reached the creek, he turned back to laugh at me, and I called:
“Good-bye, Goggle Eye; next time you spoil your damper, you can mend it by yourself.”