“Me’n’ Cho-Cho wisht we could git throwed in the fire,” sighed the repentant Mildred. “But, Uncle Kent,” and she got up and put her little mouth close to his ear, “don’t you think I made a mighty cunning little Japanese dolly out’n my Haythen friend?”
CHAPTER XIX
A DEATH
“Aunt Judy, my Poilu is tellible sick! He can’t open up his mouf mo’n ’bout a minute far. Won’t you please, ma’m, punch it open wif the button hook so’s I kin poke some breafkast down him?”
Mildred had the little puppy clasped in her arms and he did seem to be very miserable. His eyes were partly closed and his teeth were tightly clamped together.
“I weckon that big ol’ dog what eated a piece out’n him done made him so sick.”
“But, honey, that was a week ago, and if it had been going to make him sick it would surely have affected him long ago. It was nothing but a scratch, and don’t you remember Aunt Judy bound it up so tight it only bled a moment?”
Judy and Kent had remained at Wellington for a visit. Kent was so soon to join his regiment that he felt he could not tear himself away from his mother and sister, so they had lingered on after the other guests had departed. The bride and groom had also returned after a flying visit to Nance’s old home and were now with the McLeans, Nance declaring that Andy’s mother must have all she could of her son before he was to sail for France.
Judy took the puppy in her lap and smoothed his silky sides. The little fellow opened his eyes and gave her a grateful glance. Mildred did squeeze a little too tight when a fellow felt as sick as poor little Poilu did.