"It was a lovely, cool grove," echoed Teenty, "and we had a nice lunch."
Buster listened sleepily. Now and then he rubbed his stomach.
"Were you lonely, Buster?" asked his mother.
"No, ma'am."
"Did you have a good nap?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Are you sick, child?" she demanded, anxiously.
"Yes, Mammy," wailed Buster. "It seems as if my little jacket would burst! Boo-hoo!"
Mother Graymouse hastened to get him a hot drink, but poor Buster rolled and tossed upon his little bed.
Grand-daddy Whiskers came puffing up to the attic with a pan of warm biscuits under his arm. Mother Graymouse looked relieved, for Grand-daddy was quite a doctor.