At that very moment the District Nurse was in Rose's room helping to cut out a tiny calico dress. Rose herself was running little sleeves together in a motherly way.
“Tell me some more,” she pleaded. “Is she pretty? Does she do up her hair? What kind of eyes has she?”
“One at a time! You take my breath away,” laughed Miss Winship over her calico breadths. “Yes, she is pretty—I think you will say so. Her hair? I'm sure I don't know what kind of hair she has. Now you may begin again, my dear.”
But Rose's eyes were wistfully musing. They were beautiful eyes, but the rest of Rose, oh, how pinched and meager!
“I kind of thought,” Rose said, “I didn't know but—there now, the idea! Of course I don't want her to be like me!” Rose's voice quivered. “I'd be ashamed of myself to want her to be like me. I was only thinking, that's all. It isn't bad to think, is it? And anyway, we're both Rosies, you say. But they call her Gloria. But she has Rose for one name. I've got that to be glad of!”
Snip—snip—the scissors cut steadily through the crisp cotton goods. “Yes, indeed, you've got that!” the District Nurse said with loving tenderness. She did not look up from her work; at that minute she did not want to see the small, stunted figure sewing tiny sleeves for Dinney's baby.
CHAPTER V.
It was a beautiful morning, and Gloria and the cat were occupying the broad piazza. At last Abou Ben Adhem slid with a soft thud to the piazza floor. It was his signal that no more petting was desired for the time. Gloria, too, got out of the big rocker and went into the house.
“Aunt Em, would you want to be a District Nurse and never get home? I've watched till I'm 'blind of seeing.'”