Clay asked of
Pearlie Watson one day when he met her wheeling a baby
carriage with an abnormally fat baby in it.
"This is the Czar of all the Rooshia," Pearl answered
gravely, "and I'm his body-guard."
The doctor's face showed no surprise as he stepped back
to get a better look at the czar, who began to squirm at
the delay.
"See the green plush on his kerridge," Pearl said proudly,
"and every stitch he has on is hand-made, and was did
for him, too, and he's fed every three hours, rain or
shine, hit or miss."
"Think of that!" the doctor exclaimed with emphasis, "and
yet some people tell us that the Czar has a hard time of
it."
Pearl drew a step nearer, moving the carriage up and down
rapidly to appease the wrath of the czar, who was expressing
his disapproval in a very lumpy cry.
"I'm just 'tendin', you know, about him bein' the czar,"
she said confidentially. "You see, I mind him every day,
and that's the way I play. Maudie Ducker said one day I
never had no time to play cos we wuz so pore, and that
started me. It's a lovely game."
The doctor nodded. He knew something of "'tendin' games"
too.
"I have to taste everything he eats, for fear of Paris
green," Pearl went on, speaking now in the loud official
tone of the body-guard. "I have to stand between him and
the howlin' mob thirstin' for his gore."
"He seems to howl more than the mob," the doctor said
smiling.
"He's afraid we're plottin'," Pearl whispered.
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