“Gee,” he cried, releasing the youngsters and pointing at the mess on the stove and floor. “Now ain’t that a real pity? Say, how d’you come to do that? It sure ain’t a heap of trouble heatin’ a drop o’ milk. Most any fule ken do that. I tho’t you savvied that, I sure did, or I’d ha’ put you wise. Y’see, you should jest let it ha’ come to the bile, an’ then whip it off quick. My, but it’s real foolish! Ten cents o’ milk wasted for want of a little sense.”
“Our dinner milk,” cried Vada in consternation. “All gone.”
“All dorn,” echoed Jamie, flinging himself on the floor and dipping his fingers into the mess and licking them with grave appreciation.
In a moment he was joined by the inevitable yellow pup, which burnt its tongue and set up a howl. Vada ran to the animal’s assistance, fell over Jamie’s sprawling legs and rolled heavily in the mess.
For some seconds confusion reigned. Sunny darted to Vada’s rescue, sent the pup flying with a well-directed kick, picked the weeping girl up, and tried to shake some of the milk from her dirty clothing. While Bill grabbed Jamie out of the way of any further mischief. The boy struggled furiously to free himself.
“Me want dinner milk,” he shouted, and beat the gambler’s chest with both his little fists.
“You kicked Dougal!” wailed Vada, from under Sunny’s arm.
And at that moment a mild voice reached them from the open doorway––
“Why, what’s happenin’?”
Bill and Sunny turned at once. And the next instant the children were shrieking in quite a different tone.