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Actually, they were a lion and a tiger. As Graham jumped to his feet, the lion sprang backward. "Yikes!" he screamed, jumping behind the tiger. "Is he g-going to h-hurt us?" "I don't think so," answered the tiger. "I imagine he's just getting up to look for some din-din." At this point, as if on cue, a loud growl echoed from the vicinity of the tiger.
Just here Belle stepped through one of the drawing-room French windows, with dewy, delicious Timothy, in faded pale-blue sleeping-wear, in her arms. "This darling little feller was crying," said Belle, "and I guess he wants some din-din don't you, lover? Shall I step out and tell one of those Chinese boys to get it? Listen!
Sitting down on the floor, with her legs tucked under her and her skirts spread out, she said, like a little girl who is playing with her doll: "Now we'll have a little din-din, mammy, dear, and I'll wait on you."
I used to dream myself doing it in the old place down on Twenty-third Street, when I used to sit at the sewing-table from eight until eight. Gee! I honest, I just can't wait to see if the sun is shining to-morrow." He kissed her again on the back of each finger, and she let her hand, pale and rather inert, rest on his hair. "Is my boy hungry for his din-din?" "Gee! yes!
Mac knelt down, took the small, reluctant hand, and kissed it as devoutly as ever good Alonzo Quixada did that of the Duchess while he said, merrily quoting from the immortal story: "'High and Sovereign Lady, thine till death, the Knight of the Rueful Countenance." But baby had no heart for play and, withdrawing her hand, pointed to the porringer with the suggestive remark: "Din-din, now."
The man reached up and drew the woman's face down to his, and kissed her on the lips. "It don't matter 'bout not finding that gold now," he cried, and kissed her again. "No, it " "Say, momma, ain't it dinner yet?" "Ess, me want din-din."
"Yes, din-din." "Say, those were swell chicken livers smothered in onions you served the other night, madam. Believe me, those were some livers!" No, reader, Romance is not dead. On the contrary, he has survived the frock-coat and learned to chew a clove. A radiance as soft as the glow from a pink-shaded lamp flowed over Madam Moores's face.
"Was muvver's ittsie Snookie Ookie such a hungry bow-wow?" He yapped shortly, pawing her. "Ask big bossie sitting over there carving his din-din if him got chocolate tandy in him pocket like always for Snookie Ookie. No, no, bad red meat no good for ittsie bittsie bow-wow. Go ask big bossie what him got this time in him pocket for Snookie.
"Now him all comfy and I go fix poor tired bad boy him din-din." More native than mother-tongue is Mother's tongue. Whom women love they would first destroy with gibberish. To Mr. Michelson's linguistic credit, however, he shifted in his chair in unease. "What did you say?" "What him want for din-din?" He slung one slim leg atop the other, slumping deeper to the luxury of his chair. "Dinner?"
Vincent sitting by the grate, and the two children on the floor beside her. The elder, the little invalid, was simply staring at his mother in a wretched silence; but the younger, the baby of three, was restlessly throwing himself hither and thither, now pulling at the woman's skirts, now crying lustily, now whining in a hungry voice, for "Máma! din-din! Máma! din-din!" Mrs.
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