"It's only that baby gets so cross, Jim!" Julia would plead.

"Well, let her. You know you mustn't spoil her, Julie. If there's one
thing that's awful it's a house run by a spoiled kid! Do let's have our
breakfast in peace!"

Julia might here gracefully concede the point, and send a message to
Caroline to go on without her. Or she might make the message a promise
to perform the disputed duty herself, "in just a few minutes."

She would run into the nursery breathlessly, and take the baby in her
arms. Everything would be in readiness, the water twinkling in the
little bathtub, soap and powder, fresh little clothes, and woolly bath
apron all in order.

"But _hush_, Sweetest! How cross she is this morning, Caroline!"

"Yes, Mrs. Studdiford. You see she ought to be having her bottle now,
it's nearly eleven! Dear little thing, she was _so_ good and patient."

"Well, darling, Mudder'll be as quick as she can," Julia might console
the baby, and under Caroline's cool eye, and with Anna screaming until
she was scarlet from her little black crown to the soles of her feet,
the bath would somehow proceed. Ellie might put her head in the door.

"Well--oh, the poor baby, were they 'busing Ellie's baby?" she would
croon, coming in. "Don't you care, because Ellie's going to beat 'em all
with sticks!"

Caroline anticipated Julia's every need on these occasions: the little
heap of discarded apparel was whisked away, band and powder were
promptly presented, the bath vanished, the clothes-rack with its tiny
hangers was gone, and Julia had a moment in which to hug the weary,
sleepy, hungry, fragrant little lump of girlhood in her arms.

"Bottle ready, Caroline?"

"Yes, Mrs. Studdiford. She goes out on the porch now, for her nap. Come
to Caroline, darling, and get something goody-good."

And so Julia had no choice but to go, wandering a little disconsolately
to her own room, and wishing the baby took her nap at another hour and
could be played with now.

Presently outside interests began to claim her again, dressmakers and
manicures, shopping and the essential letter writing filled the
mornings, luncheons kept her late into the afternoons, there were calls
and card playing and teas. Julia would have only a few minutes in the
nursery before it was time to dress for dinner; sometimes Jim came in to
feast his eyes on the beautiful, serene little Anna, in her beautiful
mother's arms; more often he was late, and Julia, trailing her e