hasn't 'long yellow
curls' like Rosy Posy, but you see she's young yet--only a baby in long
dresses. I think maybe her hair will grow."

Hugging the baby doll tight in one arm, Anne threw the other around Mrs.
Patterson's neck, and kissed her again and again.

"You are so good. You are so good," she said over and over.

"What are you going to call your new baby?" asked Miss Drayton.

"I'd like to name her for you," Anne said, looking at Mrs. Patterson.

Mrs. Patterson smiled. "My name is Emily," she said.

"Then that's her name. Mrs. Emily Patterson. Only--" there was a
thoughtful pause--"that does sound sorter 'dicalous for a baby in a long
dress."

"Call her Emily Patterson," suggested the doll's namesake.

But Anne shook her head. "That wouldn't sound 'spectful," she objected;
"and Patterson is your 'Mrs.' name." Then her face brightened. "Oh! Her
name can be Mrs. Emily Patterson, and I'll call her a pet name. I don't
like nicknames, but pet names are dear. She shall be what Aunt Charity
used to call me--'Honey-Sweet.' I can sing it like she did:--

"'Honey, honey! Sweet, sweet, sweet!
Honey, honey! Honey-Sweet!'"

As Anne crooned the words over and over, her voice sank drowsily. When
Miss Drayton went a few minutes later to turn out the light, Anne was
fast asleep, smiling in her dreams at Honey-Sweet who lay smiling on the
pillow beside her.

CHAPTER V

The shipboard day passed, uneventful and pleasant. Anne had made for
herself an explanation of her uncle's absence, which no one had heart to
correct.

"He's nawful busy, Uncle Carey is," she explained. "I reckon he stayed
there talking to Roger--he always has so many things to tell Roger to
do!--and the boat was gone before he knew it. So he just had to wait. I
'spect he'll come on one of those other boats. Wouldn't it be funny if
one of them would come splashing along right now and Uncle Carey would
wave his hand at me and say 'Hello, Nancy pet! Here I am.'"

Mrs. Patterson put a caressing hand on the child's head but did not
speak. Lying back in her steamer chair, she looked across the
gray-green water and thought and wondered. Presently Anne crumpled her
steamer rug on the deck and nestled down in it. She chirped to
Honey-Sweet and wiggled her finger at the smiling red mouth, playing she
was a mother-bird bringing a fat worm to her nestling. Hour after hour,
while Miss Drayton and Mrs. Patterson read or talked togeth