“The dog?” repeated Bobby. “My goodness, we forgot him!”
“I didn’t forget him,” Meg said. “At least, I remembered him after I was in bed. I came down to feed him, and Daddy heard me and wouldn’t let me go out in my nightgown. He took him some bread and milk. And this morning I fed him before breakfast.”
“How’s he feel?” asked Twaddles sympathetically.
“He’s ever so much better,” Meg informed him. “He can wag his leg some.”
“His tail, you mean,” corrected Bobby. “Dogs don’t wag their legs.”
“They do, too,” argued Meg. “Anyway this one does, so that shows he is better. And I’ve thought up a name for him. I’m going to call him Philip.”
Bobby stared.
“What do you want to call him that for?” he said curiously.
“I read it in a book,” answered Meg. “He looks as if he ought to be named Philip.”