Part 48 (1/2)

”Nasty thing!” said Baby, suddenly, in abusive fas.h.i.+on.

Caroline said, ”Hus.h.!.+” but this brought Betty straight to the bed. It took her just a minute to climb and nestle down on the other side.

”How long has she been here, little pickle?” she demanded.

The wooliness had gone from Caroline's brain.

”Don't tease her, darling,” she urged, and she smoothed Baby's downy cheek soothingly as she spoke.

”She _is_ a pickle,” retorted Betty. ”A horrid pickle.”

Caroline made haste to avert a battle.

”Watch the blind,” she said, ”and you will see the sunbeam fairy sail into the room.”

But Betty had no use for fairies this afternoon.

”My dog's got a silver collar. He's called Box.”

”Who brought him?” asked Caroline, in a low voice.

”Oh, Rupert, of course!”

The girl's heart gave a bang. She tried to remember when it was that she had staggered into this cool, restful bed with that aching torture in her brow and eyes.

”He will bite,” said Betty.

And Baby whispered eagerly----

”Mine will, too, won't he?”

”I think I will get up,” said Caroline; but Betty at once a.s.sumed a sitting posture.

”You can't,” she said, ”you're clothes have all been took away.”

”Then I'll wear yours,” said Caroline.

She was trembling all over! How stupid of her to have been ill. How long had she been shut up in this room?

The children began with bursts of laughter to dress her up in imagination in their garments.

She listened to them, hearing nothing; then she began to question again----

”You're the grown-up young lady, Betty,” she said. ”What has been going on downstairs? Did ... did ... Rupert really come?”

”Really and truly,” said Betty. ”He said he was awful sorry you was ill. Aunty Brenny's been 'plaining, too. Oh, Caroline, you _must_ get well by Sat.u.r.day! Cook's sister Flo is going to be married. Cook's making a cake. You will let me and Baby go, won't you? We want to carry her train.”