“What do you want?” asked the lady.
“I’m very hungry,” said Puppet, “because of the walk, and—and—and all,” concluded Puppet, remembering that the lady could not understand.
“Come in, then.”
Puppet went in. Up in one corner of the sitting-room were a little tip-cart and a doll. Puppet ate her bread and meat, looking hard at the tip-cart.
“Where is it, mum?”
“Where is what, child?”
“The child, mum.” Puppet pointed to the tip-cart.
“Gone, my dear,” said the lady, softly.
“Dead?” Puppet remembered that that was what they said about her uncle when he went away. It was the only going away that she had ever known.
“Yes, I suppose so,” said the lady, with a little shiver.