; I threw it away."

"Oh, that was right Marilla," in a mollified tone. "Where's Pansy?"

"On the porch, in the carriage. I think she's hungry. It sounded as if
she meant bread and milk."

"Yes. They have that for their supper. I guess I can start it. I used
to feed them first. Let me see. I guess I can show you--you're so
handy unless they've spoiled you."

She had Violet in her arms and said--"Bring in Pansy," leading the way
to a room that seemed a general storage place. She lighted the little
pyro stove, opened a closet and took out a saucepan, a bottle of milk,
a sugar dish and some spoons.

"Now as soon as it gets warm, you fix it--you cannot have forgotten
how, and then turn this screw and put the light out. For heaven's sake
don't set anything afire! Oh, there's no place like your own home. I
haven't had an hour's comfort since I came down here. And my dinner's
getting cold. Nice baked veal it was, with dressing. There babies,
Marilla will give you some nice bread and milk."

She ran off. The babies whined a little and then watched the
proceedings. The stove stood up on a table and she poured out part of
the milk. Then she gave the babies a crust of bread to stop their
clamoring while she crumbed up some in the saucepan and kept stirring
it so that it shouldn't scorch, taking out part, presently. Pansy
climbed up by a chair and began to call "Bed'y mik, bed'y mik."

Marilla put on her bib and began to feed her. Then Violet joined with
her starvation cry. First it was one open pink mouth then the other.
The viands disappeared as if by magic. She meant to have a little for
herself--she was so weak and gone in the stomach, but she found she
must make some more, even, for the babies. So she crumbed up the
remainder of the loaf. How they _did_ eat! She was very tired of
ladling it in each little mouth.

She had a very little left for herself, but it seemed to help the
desperately tired feeling. She had put the stove out without any
mishap. Pansy began to cry--"Wock, wock."

"What is it dear? Was it anything more to eat?" She glanced through
the closet.

"Wock, wock," hanging to her skirt.

"Me wock," joined in the chorus that might be Chinese.

Oh, would they never come! She took the babies out on the porch. There
was a big rocker. Pansy ran to it and patted it, rolling up her
eyes.

"Oh, yes, Rock. I might have guessed, but my head feels so tired and
queer." Then she took the cushions and blankets o