Grumble," she exclaimed, "how do you feel to-day?"

"Very poorly, thank you," replied Sara, in that curious squeak with
which all of Juliet's children answered their mother.

"Well, that's too bad," said Juliet. "Where does it hurt you, Mrs. G.?"

"In the stummick," squeaked Sara.

Juliet shook her head soberly. "Dear me," she said. "Well, cheer up,
Mrs. Grumble; what would you like to have?"

"Ice cream," said Sara hopefully, "and fritters."

"All right," said Juliet. She went back into the garden, whence she
presently returned with a few dead leaves and some mud. "Here," she
said; "here's the ice cream. And here's the fritters. Don't get sick,
now, will you?"

"No," said Sara.

Her mother gazed at her with sympathy. "What else would you like?" she
inquired.

"I'd like Mr. Jeminy," squeaked Sara. "He's in the toils."

"I'll go and see if I can find him," said Juliet. And she began to
look about for a twig, or a small branch, suitable for Jeminy. But all
at once she grew thoughtful. It had occurred to her that to look for
Mr. Jeminy in the flesh would be a delightful adventure. It would