She had Morgan behind her for justification . Jims was warm , physically comfortable -- his cry was n't the cry of pain -- and had his little tummy as full as was good for him . Under such circumstances it would be simply spoiling him to fuss over him , and she was n't going to do it . He could cry until he got good and tired and ready to go to sleep again . Then Rilla 's imagination began to torment her . Suppose , she thought , I was a tiny , helpless creature only five months old , with my father somewhere in France and my poor little mother , who had been so worried about me , in the graveyard . Suppose I was lying in a basket in a big , black room , without one speck of light , and nobody within miles of me , for all I could see or know . Suppose there was n't a human being anywhere who loved me -- for a father who had never seen me could n't love me very much , especially when he had never written a word to or about me . Would n't I cry , too ? Would n't I feel just so lonely and forsaken and frightened that I 'd have to cry ? Rilla hopped out . She picked Jims out of his basket and took him into her own bed . His hands were cold , poor mite . But he had promptly ceased to cry . And then , as she held him close to her in the darkness , suddenly Jims laughed -- a real , gurgly , chuckly , delighted , delightful laugh . `` Oh , you dear little thing ! '' exclaimed Rilla . `` Are you so pleased at finding you 're not all alone , lost in a huge , big , black room ? '' Then she knew she wanted to kiss him and she did . She kissed his silky , scented little head , she kissed his chubby little cheek , she kissed his little cold hands .
She wanted to squeeze him -- XXXXX cuddle him , just as she used to squeeze and cuddle her kittens .
Under about as at for in to until with without