Even Kitty laughed at this.
“Well,” she said, “she may not have looked just as Cæsar really did, but she looked awful cunning and sweet.”
“Here she is!” cried King, and Nurse Nannie came in with the smiling baby in her arms.
In a clean frock, and her lovely hair freshly tied up with a blue ribbon, the little one was quite her usual self. Only the pathetic-looking bandage around the tiny bare arm gave any evidence of the late disaster.
Doctor Mendel carefully watched Kitty as her eyes fell on the bandage. She turned a fiery red, and then went perfectly pale. She choked a little, but by a determined effort of will, she held on to herself, and controlled her agitation.
“Brave little girl!” said Doctor Mendel, patting her shoulder. “You’re doing nobly, Kitty, and I have no fears for you now. Remember, if you want to help the baby bear her misfortune, you must do it by unselfishly being bright and cheery, and helping to amuse her, and not by sorrowful regrets that can do no one any good.”
“Yes, sir,” said Kitty, meekly, but with a note of strong determination in her voice. “But I wish Mother was home. Shall I write her about it all, Doctor?”
Doctor Mendel was such an old and tried friend of the Maynard family, that the children consulted him on any subject, with full confidence in his sympathy and wisdom.
“Well, I don’t know, Kitty. I hate to have you go all over the matter in a letter, when really it is now a thing of the past. And yet I suppose you wouldn’t sleep quietly in your little bed, if you didn’t tell Mother about it at once. Well—how’s this plan? Suppose I write and tell her about it, and then she’ll write to you, and then you can keep it up as long as you choose after that.”
“Oh, that will be fine, Doctor!” cried Kitty, her heart full of thankfulness for his kindness. She had dreaded to write the awful story, and yet she wanted her mother to know about it, and this plan was a relief to her burdened little heart.