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Updated: April 30, 2025
"Oh, please, dear Joan!" she cried, holding her back by the apron strings. "Fudge isn't the most to blame. I took Angelina. I s'pose he pulled off the wig and broke the arm, but I pushed the eyes in; didn't mean to, though was only trying to make them open and shut. Tilderee's so sorry, Joan!" The explanation ended with a contrite sob and what Mr. Prentiss called "a sun shower."
But in her baby innocence, Tilderee knew nothing of these perils. She only felt that she was weary and chilled, and faint for want of food. "Oh Fudge, if we could only get home to mother!" she moaned. "Tilderee's so tired and sleepy, and it will be dark night soon." At the thought she threw herself on the ground and began to cry bitterly. Fudge looked disconsolate.
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