But—
"Oh, Lizbeth!" Mother would cry.
"—and Mother's," Lizbeth would add, to keep peace in the family. Though she never mentioned you at such times, she told you privately that she would marry you when you grew to be a man, and publicly she remembered you in her prayers. Kneeling down at Mother's knee, you and Lizbeth, in your little white nighties, before you went to bed, you said "Now I lay me" in unison, and ended with blessing every one, only at the very end you said:
"YOU SAID 'NOW I LAY ME' IN UNISON"
"—and God bless Captain Jinks," for even a wooden soldier needed God in those long, dark nights of childhood, while Lizbeth said:
"—and God bless all my dollies, and send my Sally doll a new leg."
But though God sent three new legs in turn, Sally was always losing them, so that finally Lizbeth confided in Mother:
"Pretty soon God 'll be tired of sending Sally new legs, I guess. You speak to Him next time, Mother, 'cause I'm 'shamed to any more."
And when Mother asked Him, He sent a new Sally instead of a new leg. It would be cheaper, Mother told Father, in the long-run.