Now he rose solemnly, selected a fresh-baked pill, bowed to the right, again to the left, last of all, to her—­and presented the pill.

“In that case, Miss Gwendolyn,” he said, smiling down, “a toast!”

And—­quite in contrast to the evening of her seventh birthday anniversary—­toast there was, deliciously crisp and crunchy!

“Oo!  How good!” she exclaimed, not nibbling conventionally, but taking big bites. “’Cause I hate cake!”

The next moment she became aware of the munching of others.  And on looking round, found that she was back at the Den.  She was not surprised.  Things had a way of coming to pass in a pleasantly instantaneous fashion.  And she was glad to see the little old gentleman, the Piper and the Policeman each fairly gobbling up a pellet.  Miss Royle was eating, too, and Jane was stuffing both mouths.

But Puffy was having quite different fare.  In front of him stood the Doctor, busily feeding filmy white bits into the tear just under a fore-leg.

“I think you’ll find,” assured the latter, “that a proper amount of cotton-batting is most refreshing.”

“Once I wanted Jane to take me to the Doll Hospital,” complained Puffy, his shoe-button eyes hard with resentment; “but she said I was only a little beast.”

Gwendolyn looked severe.  “Jane, you’ll be sorry for that,” she scolded.

“Ah-ha! my dear!” said the Man-Who-Makes-Faces, addressing the nurse, “at last one of your chickens is coming home to roost!”

Gwendolyn glanced up.  And, sure enough, a chicken was going past—­a small blue hen, who looked exceedingly fagged. (This was an occurrence worth noting.  How often had she heard the selfsame remark—­and never seen as much as a feather!)

Jane also saw the blue hen.  And appeared much disconcerted.  “I think I’ll take forty winks,” she hummed; “—­twenty for the front face, and twenty for the back.”  Whereupon she made a few quick revolutions, landing up against the granite base of the obelisk.

The Doctor had been sewing up the tear in Puffy’s coat.  Now he finished his seam and knotted the thread.  “There!” said he, cheerily.  “You’re as good as new!”

“Thank you,” said Puffy.  “And I feel so grateful to you, Miss Gwendolyn, that I must repay your kindness.  You’ve always heard a certain statement about Jane, yonder.  Well, I’m going to prove that it’s true.”

“What’s true?” asked Gwendolyn, puzzled.

He made no answer.  But after a short whispered conference with the Policeman, turned his back and began sniffing and snarling under his breath, while a fore-paw was busy in the region of his third rib.  When he faced round again, the shoe-button eyes were shining triumphantly, and he was holding both fore-paws together tightly.

“I found one!” he cried.  And wabbling over to Jane, stationed himself on one side of her, at the same time motioning the Officer to steal round to the other side on quiet hands.