'I'm soddy, Jane,' said the child, nodding to her; 'but it was a p—wecious pie, wasn't it?'
The mixture of humour and candour in his baby eye was irresistible. Even Jane laughed, and David took him up and swung him on to his shoulder.
'Come out, young man, into the garden, where I can keep an eye on you. Oh! by the way, are you all right again?'
This inquiry was uttered as they reached the garden seat, and David perched the child on his knee.
'Yes, I'm bet—ter,' said the child slowly, evidently unwilling to relinquish the dignity of illness all in a moment.
'Well, what was the matter with you that you gave poor mammy such a bad night?'
The child was silent a moment, pondering how to express himself.
'I was—I was a little sick outside, and a little feelish inside'—he wavered on the difficult word. 'Mammy said I had the wrong dinner yesterday at Aunt Dora's. Zere was plums—lots o' plums!' said the child, clasping his hands on his knee, and hunching himself up in a sudden ecstasy.
'Well, don't go and have the wrong dinner again at Aunt Dora's. I must tell her to give you nothing but rice pudding.'
'Zen I shan't go zere any more,' said the child with determination.