“Oh, my dear, she has a raft of children, and a whole lot of the canal people to cook for; she doesn’t get the time.”
“What is the name of our young hero?” inquired Winnie.
Betty giggled. “He rejoices in the cognomen of Claude Lafayette. He is so sleepy, poor little tot, that he must have a nap, then when he wakes up we will give him a bath. If I thought his clothes would dry I would wash them out while he is asleep.”
“There is no knowing how long he may sleep; it may be for only a few minutes,” said Esther, who had more knowledge of babies than the rest.
“In this hot sun they should dry in a few minutes,” put in Winnie.
“I think I’ll risk it,” said Betty. “Where had I better lay him down?”
“Oh, please, not on my bed,” came a chorus; “he is so dirty.”
Betty stood still looking helplessly from the sleeping child to the group of girls. “I can’t stand and hold him all day,” she said plaintively; “he will have to go somewhere.”
“I know,” cried Joanne. “Just wait a minute, Betty.” She rushed off to a cupboard where a pile of quilts had been thrown; these she folded and heaped them upon a table which she had overturned so that the legs stood in the air. “There,” she exclaimed, “that makes a fine four-poster for him, and he can’t possibly fall out.”
“I call that a pure stroke of genius,” declared Winnie. “Who but you would have thought of it, Jo?”