"There, there, darling," said grandma, "don't cry."
"No, I won't," said Prudy, trying to stop. "I was a-talkin' to myself, and I said, 'I won't cry no more,' and then I cried. I don't like to stay in this country, grandma, 'thout I can have somethin' to eat!"
"Of all things," said grandma, "I don't believe there's a little girl any where that has so many nice things as you do. See the jelly, and oranges, and lemons, and——"
"Well, if I wasn't sick, grandma, and you should ask me to eat some smashed potatoes, and some pie, I'd eat 'em," said Prudy, smiling through her tears.
"Bless your little heart," cried grandma, kissing Prudy's pale cheek. "Can't you think of something besides eating? What pretty thing shall I bring you to look at?"
"O, now I know what it is I want," replied Prudy, lifting her head from the pillow, "I want to eat up the old lady!"
Prudy was thinking of a little image aunt Madge had formed out of candy.
"O, that's made to be looked at," said grandma. "Let's see—where do you suppose your little Zip is nowadays? I guess he misses Prudy."
"I don' know—I ate a little dog once," said Prudy, wiping her eyes. "He was made out of a doughnut. Once when I lived to Portland—to my mother's Portland—I used to eat things."
Poor grandma herself could hardly keep from crying to see Prudy so hungry.