Mattie came in at that moment with the baby, a fair, rosy, fat little
fellow in a starched white dress and petticoats. She put him through
all his tricks to please the visitor, and then asked Elsie if she
wished to hold him. Elsie accepted the honor, though she felt rather
apprehensive. It wasn't bad, however; indeed, the confidence with
which the baby nestled into the arms that didn't know how to enfold him
was rather sweet to the girl. And when he made a sudden dash for the
pink rose in her leghorn hat, she didn't mind it at all.

Watchful little Mattie minded, however, and took him away quickly lest
he injure any of the princess's royal finery. Then the mother took him
from her, that the little girl might have the major part of Miss Moss's
attention. For the same reason she forbore to call in the other two
children, little girls of five and seven, who were playing with dolls
in the yard.

But when Charles Augustus came home, his mother proudly summoned him
into the parlor. Elsie had seen him at the library--a solemn, big-eyed
little fellow with a prominent forehead and spectacles.

When he had shaken hands, his mother told Elsie how much she relied
upon his help. He fetched and carried all the clothes she laundered,
and had recently made a new body for his old cart which would carry a
good-sized clothes-basket.

"I don't see how you do it--other people's washing," said Elsie
suddenly.

"I couldn't if Mattie and Charles Augustus didn't help me so much,"
replied Mrs. Howe.

The girl glanced about the pretty room, at the attractive mother in her
neat, faded muslin gown, at the thoughtful children, and the rosy baby.
How dreadful it seemed to wash soiled clothing for four strange
families!

"Don't you hate it?" she asked with a directness rare to her.

"Oh, no," said Mrs. Howe quietly. "I love to iron, especially pretty
things, and I don't mind washing, now that I've got set tubs. You
wouldn't believe, would you, that your uncle is responsible for my
having them? He thought of it himself. The first I knew of it was
that the men came to put them in. Isn't that just like him?"

Elsie agreed.

"But don't you get awfully tired?" she demanded.

"Well, yes, Miss Moss, I do. But so does almost every mother of a
little family. You come to take it for granted, you know. A mother
rather sinks her life in that of her children, and--after all, she
doesn't lose half so much as she gains. And getting ti