“‘You needn’t be afraid to tell me, dear,’ Silky said, gently. ‘I’m not going to do you any harm. Does your mother know you get it?’
“He waited a good while, and then when she repeated the question, taking another look at Silky’s kind quiet face, he said half under his breath,—
“‘No—’
“‘What do you want it for, then, dear? I’d rather give it to you than have you take it in a wrong way.—Do you want it to drink?’
“Norman dropped his piece of bacon.
“‘No,’ he said, beginning to cry,—‘I don’t want it—I don’t want it at all!’—
“Silky picked up the bacon, and she looked troubled in her turn.
“‘Don’t cry, Norman,—don’t be afraid of me.—Who does want it?’
“‘Oh, don’t tell!—’ sobbed the child;—‘My little dog!—’
“‘Now don’t cry!’ said Silky.—‘Your little dog?’