"It was a lovely, cool grove," echoed Teenty, "and we had a nice
lunch."

Buster listened sleepily. Now and then he rubbed his stomach.

"Were you lonely, Buster?" asked his mother.

"No, ma'am."

"Did you have a good nap?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Are you sick, child?" she demanded, anxiously.

"Yes, Mammy," wailed Buster. "It seems as if my little jacket would
burst! Boo-hoo!"

Mother Graymouse hastened to get him a hot drink, but poor Buster
rolled and tossed upon his little bed.

Grand-daddy Whiskers came puffing up to the attic with a pan of warm
biscuits under his arm. Mother Graymouse looked relieved, for
Grand-daddy was quite a doctor.

"What shall I do for the poor child, Grand-daddy?" she asked.

"What has he been eating?" was Grand-daddy's first question as he
bent over Buster's bed.