Rosy nodded her head wisely, and employed a full minute in the silent enjoyment of her new red socks. Mrs. Hart was silent also, worshipping her little girl. If children only knew how their mothers worship them! Down went Rosy's legs again.
"Where will the doctor bring Bunny from, mother?"
"From the parsley-bed," replied the mother, laughing.
"Is Bunny there now, mother?"
"Yes, dear."
"Did I come out of a parsley-bed mother?"
"Yes, my dear," and Mrs. Hart smothered Rosy's face and neck with kisses. She was so occupied with her happiness that she did not hear the door, and did not know that any one was in the room until she heard a voice calling her name. The voice belonged to a neighbour, Mrs. Thomson, and Mrs. Hart rose to her feet, and was beginning to tell merrily of the conversation which she had just had with Rosy, when something in Mrs. Thomson's face stopped her tongue.
"What's the matter, Mrs. Thomson? What is it? Tell me, quick!"
"Now, bear up, Mrs. Hart," said the neighbour; "remember how near your time is, and bear up, there's a good soul!"
"What's the matter?" cried Mrs. Hart, thoroughly frightened.