"Here, here, what's going on?" and Mrs. Rose came in just in time to hear Bob's last words. "You're not to stir Dotty up, Bob, we want to keep her quiet."

"Quiet nothing! She'll dry up and blow away if she doesn't get a move on! You're going to rig her up some sort of civilian dress Mother and get her downstairs this very day. She's not sick or going into a decline, is she?"

The influence of Bob's breezy chatter had wrought a change in Dotty. During the two weeks that had just passed she had become peevish and fretful from enforced inactivity and now the thought of getting up and going downstairs had brought the smiles to her face and the light to her eyes.

Moreover, Mrs. Rose was impressed also by the determination of her big young son and began to think that perhaps his way might be right after all.

"Now you've got to tend to me, Mumsie," Bob said in his wheedlesome way, as he caressed his mother in a big bearish fashion. "You've got to fix up a room for me, all just as I want it, and you've got to make me chocolate cakes and all sorts of good things to eat, and you've got to do lots of things for your prodigal son. Dotty has had her turn and now it's mine, but while you're busy about me, I'll look after Dot, bless her old heart!" And Bob blew a kiss from his finger tips to his pretty sister who had already begun to take a new interest in life.

"Hello, Aunt Clara," Bob called out as Mrs. Bayliss passed through the hall, "come in here and help us dressmakers. Can't you rig up a costume for Dot that will be presentable to wear downstairs?"

"Downstairs!" exclaimed Aunt Clara; "did the doctor say she could go down?"

"Dr. Bob said so!" and the boy laughed. "I know all about broken arms, and there's no use giving in to them too much. The more you do for them, the more you may. Now Dotty is going to forget hers and have just as good a time as if she never broke it. I say, Dot, how's that chum of yours, you wrote me about? Is this her picture? Wow! Ain't she the peach!"

Bob picked up the picture of Dolly from Dotty's dressing-table and admired it openly. "Does she really look like that?"

"Yes," and Dotty waxed enthusiastic; "she's beautiful. Just like a pinky rose with blue eyes."