"No!" Scrooge protested. He vehemently shook his head. "No, Donald was right: Ah was the one responsible. Ah shoulda ne'er commissioned the Spear. Ah knew ye'd want ta fly it the moment ye found it, but Ah did it anyway."

He'd wanted to make his little girl happy. She'd seemed so unhappy watching him and Donald jet off on adventures without her while she stayed behind. He'd refused to let her go since her big belly would've slowed her down, gotten her and the eggs hurt. It was supposed to be a reward for all the hard work of becoming a mother even if she'd thought she was just sitting around doing nothing.

He'd been an idiot.

"He didn't want me ta hurt the boys, too. And when Ah couldnae bring ye back..."

He swallowed, dreading the answer to the question he knew he had to ask:

"Della...where were ye?"