"_Oh!_" cried Bubble, hopping up and down in his chair, regardless of
the sprained ankle. "Oh, I _say_, Miss Hildy! I dunno what _to_ say!
Wouldn't _he_ ha' liked it, though? My! 'twas jest like himself. Jes'
exactly what he'd ha' done."
"What who would have done, Bubble?" asked Hilda, laughing.
"Why, him! Buckle-oh!" said the boy. "I was jest sayin' over the ballid
when I saw ye comin'. Warn't it like him, Pink, say?"
But Pink drew the stately head down towards her, and kissed the glowing
cheek, and whispered, "Queen Hildegarde! _my_ queen!"
The tears started to Hilda's eyes as she returned the kiss; but she
brushed them away, and rose hastily, announcing her intention of
"setting things to rights" against Mrs. Chirk's return. "You poor
dears!" she cried, "how did you manage yesterday? If I had only known, I
would have come and got dinner for you."
"Oh! we got on very well indeed," replied Pink, laughing, "though there
were one or two mishaps. Fortunately there was plenty of bread in the
cupboard, where we could easily reach it; and with that and the molasses
jug, we were in no danger of starvation. But Mother had left a
custard-pie on the upper shelf, and poor Bubble wanted a piece of it for
dinner. But neither of us cripples could get at it; and for a long time
we could think of no plan which would make it possible. At last Bubble
had a bright idea. You remember the big fork that Mother uses to take
pies out of the oven? Well, he spliced that on to the broom-handle, and
then, standing well back, so that he could see (on one foot, of course,
for he couldn't put the other to the ground), he reached for the pie.
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