put on a raincoat or an Indian blanket,--but for goodness' sake get out
and around. I'll stir you up--"

"Here, here, what's going on?" and Mrs. Rose came in just in time to
hear Bob's last words. "You're not to stir Dotty up, Bob, we want to
keep her quiet."

"Quiet nothing! She'll dry up and blow away if she doesn't get a move
on! You're going to rig her up some sort of civilian dress Mother and
get her downstairs this very day. She's not sick or going into a
decline, is she?"

The influence of Bob's breezy chatter had wrought a change in Dotty.
During the two weeks that had just passed she had become peevish and
fretful from enforced inactivity and now the thought of getting up and
going downstairs had brought the smiles to her face and the light to her
eyes.

Moreover, Mrs. Rose was impressed also by the determination of her big
young son and began to think that perhaps his way might be right after
all.

"Now you've got to tend to me, Mumsie," Bob said in his wheedlesome
way, as he caressed his mother in a big bearish fashion. "You've got to
fix up a room for me, all just as I want it, and you've got to make me
chocolate cakes and all sorts of good things to eat, and you've got to
do lots of things for your prodigal son. Dotty has had her turn and now
it's mine, but while you're busy about me, I'll look after Dot, bless
her old heart!" And Bob blew a kiss from his finger tips to his pretty
sister who had already begun to take a new interest in life.

"Hello, Aunt Clara," Bob called out as Mrs. Bayliss passed through the
hall, "come in here and help us dressmakers. Can't you rig up a costume
for Dot that will be presentable to wear downstairs?"

"Downstairs!" exclaimed Aunt Clara; "did the doctor say she could go
down?"

"Dr. Bob said so!" and the boy laughed. "I know all about broken arms,
and there's no use giving in to them too much. The more you do for them,
the more you may. Now Dotty is going to forget hers and have just as
good a time as if she never broke it. I say, Dot, how's that chum of
yours, you wrote me about? Is this her picture? Wow! Ain't she the
peach!"

Bob picked up the picture of Dolly from Dotty's dressing-table and
admired it openly. "Does she really look like that?"

"Yes," and Dotty waxed enthusiastic; "she's beautiful. Just like a pinky
rose with blue eyes."

"She broke her leg didn't she, in your all-comers' scrap?"

"Yes; she can't move for six weeks."

"Well, two weeks a