"What shall I do for the poor child, Grand-daddy?" she asked.
"What has he been eating?" was Grand-daddy's first question as he bent over Buster's bed.
"They weren't poison, Grand-daddy, 'cause Ruth Giant was eating 'em her own self," moaned Buster.
"Eating what?" cried Mammy and Grand-daddy in the same breath.
"Chocolates," confessed Buster.
[Illustration: Grand-daddy Whiskers with a pan of warm biscuits under his arm]
"How many?" demanded Grand-daddy sternly.
"Only ten," whimpered Buster.
"I will be right back," said Grand-daddy. "There is a bottle of castor oil on the pantry shelf. That was what the doctor gave Robert when he ate too much candy. You will get a good dose, young man, and then you will feel better. Ten chocolates; the greedy little pig!" he grumbled as he hurried away.
"I won't take castor oil, Mammy!" cried Buster. "It tastes horrid."