“Fudge!” said Patty; “I’m only kissing the back of her neck. Microbes don’t hurt back there. Do they, Doodlums?” and she cuddled the baby again, while Miss Swift looked on in high dudgeon.
“Of course,” she said, primly, “if my advice, based on experience and knowledge, is not to be considered at all, it might be well if you employed some other——”
“There, there, Nurse,” interrupted Patty, “we’re not going to employ anybody else. Take the kiddy-wid, and put her in a glass case. Then she won’t get kissed and cuddled by bad, naughty, ignorant Pattys. By-by, Curly-head!”
“No, no! Middy ’tay wiv Patty. Middy not go wiv bad Nursie!”
“Listen, Dearie Girl. Go away with Nursie now, and get nice bread and milk, and come back to see Patty some ’nother time.”
This reasoning worked well and the baby went off smiling and throwing kisses back to Patty.
“Oh, me, oh, my,” sighed Patty, “what can I do, what can I do?”
That evening Chick Channing called. To him Patty narrated her difficulties.
“Don’t you know of anybody who wants a perfectly angel child?” she said. “Truly there never was such a little ray of sunshine, such a sweet disposition and intelligent mind.”
But Channing didn’t know of a single applicant for such a treasure.