“Far back,” he explained. “There in the cotton, Harry.”
But it was not strawberries. Harmony opened the cage and very tenderly took out the cotton nest. Eight tiny pink baby mice, clean washed by the mother, lay curled in a heap.
It was a stupendous moment. The joy of vicarious parentage was Jimmy's. He named them all immediately and demanded food for them. On Harmony's delicate explanation that this was unnecessary, life took on a new meaning for Jimmy. He watched the mother lest she slight one. His responsibility weighed on him. Also his inquiring mind was very busy.
“But how did they get there?” he demanded.
“God sent them, just as he sends babies of all sorts.”
“Did he send me?”
“Of course.”
“That's a good one on you, Harry. My father found me in a hollow tree.”
“But don't you think God had something to do with it?”
Jimmy pondered this.