At this dismal prospect, the tears sprang to Tot's eyes, and saying,
"I'll dit it, Diddie; don' yer min', I'll dit it," she ran as fast as
her little feet could carry her to the kitchen, and told Aunt Mary, the
cook, that "Diddie is sut up; dey lock her all up in de woom, an' s'e
neber had no dinner, an' s'e's starve mos' ter def. Miss Tawwy done it,
an' s'e's des ez mean!" Then, putting her chubby little arms around Aunt
Mary's neck, she added, "_Please_ sen' Diddie some dinner."

And Aunt Mary, who loved the children, rose from the low chair on which
she was sitting to eat her own dinner, and, picking out a nice piece of
fried chicken and a baked sweet potato, with a piece of bread and a good
slice of ginger pudding, she put them on a plate for the child.

Now it so happened that Douglas, the head dining-room servant, was also
in the kitchen eating his dinner, and, being exceedingly fond of Tot, he
told her to wait a moment, and he would get her something from the
house. So, getting the keys from Aunt Delia, the housekeeper, on
pretence of putting away something, he buttered two or three slices of
light bread, and spread them with jam, and, putting with them some thin
chips of cold ham and several slices of cake, he carried them back to
the kitchen as an addition to Diddie's dinner.

Tot was delighted, and walked very carefully with the plate until she
joined the little group waiting under the window, when she called out,
joyfully,

"Hyear 'tis, Diddie! 'tis des de bes'es kine er dinner!"

And now the trouble was how to get it up to Diddie.