into them and nestled there, scattering the tears with her fists. And Kito, thrilled nearly to bursting, clutched at his leaping heart to stop it. It was all true. It was she.
The baby put her fists into his eyes and rubbed the tears out.
"Don' 'oo ky too. Jes me ky when me 's dot 'ost. But now I 's finded. 'Oo 's do'n' tate me me's mama. Me 's 'ood 'ikkle dirl—if—" she shook her tiny finger in his face, "if 'oo tate me to me's mama!"
She put her curls under his chin, as if to sleep, then suddenly turned upon him.
"'Oo dot tate me to me's mama! 'Oo dot! Me ky if 'oo don'. Tita was 'fraid at firs'. Tita fought 'oo big beas'—bow-wow-wow! Tita not 'fraid now. Tate me to me's mama. "
Kito did not understand a word of this. But that it was the veritable language of heaven he had no doubt. He kept smoothing the tangled curls with his great horny hands and whispering his one word of endearment:
"Yuki-Yuki!"
"Not Ooti—Tita. Tate me me's mama."
She got out of his arms now and tugged imperiously at his wretched sleeve. Kito
