“I-I know, I’ve seen them,” replied Titus. “You just run along to the drug store and get me one.”
Higby had to go, and by putting a rubber tube in the pigeon’s beak they managed to feed her pretty well.
When her crop was quite round and full Titus called for a basket and cotton wool, and put her behind the kitchen stove.
“That basket is mortally in the way,” said Mrs. Blodgett, fretfully; “it is just in the place where we put our plates to warm.”
“B-b-blodgieblossom,” said the boy, cajolingly, thrusting his arm through hers, “it’s for your boy.”
The housekeeper gave in. When young Titus called her “Blodgieblossom,” and said he was her boy, she would do anything for him.
“Mind, don’t any of you knock that basket over,” she said, turning frowningly to the maids.
Titus was running upstairs, when suddenly he stopped and hurried back. They all thought he had come to thank them for helping him, but he had not.
“L-l-look a-here!” he said, sternly, “If I catch any of you prattling to grandfather that I’ve got a pigeon I’ll make it hot for you.”
They all grinned at each other. The Judge was a good man, but he was rather severe with his grandson when he deceived him.