"I didn't mean to hurt 'em, really and truly," he said, "but they were all dirty and yellow with egg, you know, and I thought you'd like me to clean 'em up."
But that wasn't egg, Philly it was dear little clean feathers, like a canary-bird's wings."
"Was it?"
"Yes. And now the chickies are as cold and forlorn as you would feel if you tumbled into a pond and nobody gave you any dry clothes. Don't you think you ought to go and warm them?"
"How?"
"Well—in your hands, very gently. And then I would let them run round in the sun."
"I will!" said Philly, getting down from her lap. "Only kiss me first, because I didn't mean to, you know!"—Philly was very fond of Katy. Miss Petingill said it was wonderful to see how that child let himself be managed. But I think the secret was that Katy didn't "manage," but tried to be always kind and loving, and considerate of Phil's feelings.
Before the echo of Phil's boots had fairly died
