“Yes. Pep’mint Drop is jiggly and won’t sit up.”
“Peppermint Drop is very old and has rheumatism, Ethel; she was my dolly before ever you were born.”
“Well, my head aches. Don’t want to talk.”
“But you must talk. I’m your mother to-day.”
“You?” Ethel looked up saucily, and Mary felt half inclined to laugh; but when one has the care of a young child one must be firm.
“Ethel, I am your mother to-day. What were you doing with those dolls?”
“Nothing! Kittyleen pulled off Pep’mint’s arm.”
“Yes, and then?”
“Then she was cross.”