How could the old man explain to the child's parents...
That their child was with him?
Ah...
The child froze for a moment, then said instinctively, "Little Mango."
Little Mango?
After a brief pause, a hint of amusement flickered in the old man's eyes.
If this child had sisters...
Would they be called Little Strawberry, Little Apple, or something like that?
"Little Mango!?"
A man's excited voice came through the phone. "Is that Little Mango!?"
"Yes,"
the old man answered at once.
He turned on speakerphone. "Little Mango is in my shop."
He smiled at the child. "Say hello to your dad."
The child looked at the old man nervously.
The old man nodded to her.
"Your mom and dad are worried about you."
"Let them hear your voice. That'll help put their minds at ease."
Oh.
The child nodded.
She clasped her hands tightly.
"D-Dad."
The child's voice was very soft.
Luckily, the old man had had the foresight to hold the phone right in front of her.
That way, the phone picked up her voice clearly.
"Little Mango!?"
The man shouted excitedly.
"Is that really you?"
"You—"
"Little Mango!?"
A high-pitched female voice cut off the man's unfinished words.
"M-Mom."
The child stammered.
"Little Mango!"
"Are you all right?"
"Where did you go?"
"Your dad and I turned around and you were gone..."
"You scared us half to death."
"We looked everywhere for you."
"We called the police."
"Officer helped us look for you."
"You..."
Little Mango's mom rattled off a string of words.
She spoke quickly and without pause.
The child listened, stunned.
"Wait, wait."
Little Mango's dad stopped her mom.
"We can talk about everything once we see her."
"Right, right."
The