s the corn-starch?"

"Rosie dear, I'm awful sorry, but we're out o' corn-starch. I've been
meanin' this two days to have you get some."

"Well, I'd like to know what I'm going to put on Geraldine!"

"Couldn't you run over to the grocery now?"

"No, I can't! It's almost time for my papers. I know what I'll do: I'll
borrow Ellen's talcum."

"Oh, Rosie, Ellen wouldn't like that!"

"I don't care if she wouldn't! I guess she helps herself to other
people's things. Besides, if she's so particular about her gentlemen
friends, she ought to be glad to have Geraldine all powdered up with
violet talc."

"Don't tell me, Rosie, that you mean to be puttin' Geraldine in the
front room! Ellen'll be awful mad!"

"Let her be! When she begins to ramp around, you just _sick_ her on to
me! I'll be ready for her! Besides, I guess Geraldine's got some rights
in this house!"

On the floor of the front room, between two chairs, Rosie made a cool
little nest, protected with mosquito-netting. The tired baby sighed and
turned and was asleep in two minutes.

"You poor little thing!" Rosie murmured as she stood a moment looking
down at the dark circles under Geraldine's closed eyes and at the cruel
prickly heat that was creeping up her neck. "You poor little thing!"

She went back slowly and thoughtfully to the kitchen. Before her mother
she paused a moment, then looked up defiantly. "Ma, has Geraldine a
clean dress to go out this afternoon in the baby-buggy?"

Mrs. O'Brien's face began to beam with delight. "Ah, now, do you mean to
say----"

Rosie cut her off shortly. "Maggie O'Brien, if you say one word to me
I'll drop the whole thing!"

Mrs. O'Brien stopped her ironing to stretch out a timid, conciliatory
hand. "Rosie dear, why do you always be so sharp to your poor ma? I
won't say a word, I promise I won't. Geraldine's things is at the bottom
of the basket, and the moment I finish this waist of Ellen's I'll get at
them."

Rosie felt a sudden pang of shame, but a foolish little pride made her
keep on scolding.

"Well, I got my papers to attend to now, but see that you have those
things ready by the time I get back."

"Indeed and I will!" Mrs. O'Brien declared with head-shaken emphasis.

All afternoon on her paper route Rosie thought of poor, neglected little
Geraldine with her chafed body and sad, tired eyes. It wasn't her fault,
poor baby, that she had come eighth in a family when every one was too
busy and hard-worked to