"My Uncle Jim's got a wooden leg!" chimed in another. "He got it falling off a mast. He kin drive tacks with it, he kin. When I'm big I'm going to fall off a mast and git a wooden leg. You kin make lots o' noise with it."
"My grandma's got a wig!" said the former speaker, in triumph. "I pulled it off one day. She was just like an aig on top. Are you like an aig on top?"
Here followed a gentle pull at one of Hildegarde's smooth braids, and she sprang up, feeling quite sure that her hair would stay on, but not caring to have it tumbling on her shoulders. "I think it is nearly time for me to go now," she was beginning, when she heard a tiny sob, and looking down, saw a very small creature looking up at her with round blue eyes full of tears. "Why, darling, what is the matter?" she asked, stooping, and lifting the baby in her strong young arms.
"I—wanted—" Here came another sob.
"What did you want? Come, we'll sit here by the window, and you shall tell me all about it."
"Ze uzzers told you sings, and—I—wanted—to tell you sings—too!"
"Well, pet!" said Hildegarde, drying the tears, and kissing the round velvet cheek, "tell me then!"
"Ain't got no—sings—to tell!" And another outburst threatened; but Hilda intervened hastily.
"Oh, yes, I am sure you have things to tell, lots of things; only you couldn't think of them for a minute. What did you have for breakfast this morning?"
Baby looked doubtful. "Dat ain't a sing!"