Dil always had a “way” with babies. It might have been better for her if she had proved less beguiling. Sometimes the number swelled to ten, but it was oftener five or six. If it fell below five there were hard lines for poor Dil, unless she had a reserve fund. She early learned the beneficent use of strategy in the way of “knock-downs.”
“O Dil!” and Bess gave a long, rapturous sigh, “did you ever see so many? And they’re real roses, but fine and tender and strange, somehow. The buds are like babies,—no, they’re prittier than babies,” glancing disdainfully at those around her; “but rose babies would be prittier and sweeter, wouldn’t they?” with a wan little smile. “O my darlings, I must kiss you! Thank you a thousand, thousand times. Did the pritty lady guess you were coming to me?” She buried her face down deep in their sweetness, and every faint, feeble pulse thrilled with wordless delight.
“It was awful good of Patsey, wasn’t it?” she continued, when she looked up again.
“Patsey’s always good,” answered Dil sententiously. She was wondering what they would do if he should get “nabbed” by any untoward accident; for every little while some boy did get “nabbed.”
Patsey Muldoon smoked cigar stumps, fought like a tiger, and swore as only a street-gamin can. But he was not a thief. And to these two girls he was as loyal a knight, and brave, as any around King Arthur’s Table.
“Let me untie thim. They must be hurted with the string round so tight.”
Dil cut the cord, and began to unwind it. A great shower fell over Bess, who laughed softly, and uttered exclamations in every key of delight. If Virginia Deering could have witnessed the rapture of these poor things over her despised wild roses!
“O Dil, we never had so many flowers all to once!” she cried in tremulous joy. “There was the daisies from the Mission; but though they’re pritty, you can’t make ’em smell sweet. Do you s’pose it was over in that country you heard tell of where the beautiful lady found them? O Dil, if you could go to the Mission School again! I’d like to know some more,—oh, what will we do with them?”
Dil looked round in dismay.
“I daren’t use the pitcher, and there ain’t nothin’ big enough. They’re wilty, and they just want to be laid out straight in water. But if they’re in anything, and mammy wants it, she’ll just chuck thim away. Oh, dear!” and Dil glanced round in perplexity.