Poor Eunice! As the cot was only three feet wide, and as she was entirely unaccustomed to sleeping with any one, much less a wriggling, squirming baby, she naturally found her present experience rather a trying one. She listened enviously to Cricket’s even breathing, which showed that she was safe in the Land of Nod; but when she herself was almost there, a tiny foot or hand was suddenly planted on her, or the soft, round little body came rolling over, and landed plump upon her.
“Oh, DEAR!” cried Eunice at last, in despairing capitals, “how do mothers ever sleep at night, if their babies sleep with them?”
She stretched herself on the outermost limit of her cot, after pushing Mosina well along to the other side. For a time quiet reigned, and Eunice’s heavy eyelids fell. She was peacefully sailing away to dreamland, when suddenly a thud and a roar awakened them. Of course Mosina had fallen out of bed.
“Cricket! Cricket! do get up and light the gas! I’m afraid to get out for fear I’ll step on her. Do hurry, Cricket!”
Cricket tumbled sleepily out of bed and groped for the matches, which hung in a little swinging receiver on the gas-jet. She hit it accidentally, and every match went flying to the floor. Meanwhile Mosina steadily roared. Eunice leaned over the edge and felt around for her.
“Where have every one of those plaguey matches gone?” demanded Cricket, with emphasis, groping around on her hands and knees, and hitting every kind of object save a match. Just at that moment Eliza, aroused by the uproar, appeared, carrying a candle.
“The baby fell out of bed,” explained Eunice, somewhat unnecessarily, springing out of bed herself as the welcome light appeared. Mosina lay sprawled on her back, kicking her fat legs, and screaming lustily.
“’Tain’t hurt, by the way it cries,” said Eliza, picking up the baby with a practised hand. “It’s mad. There now! ’sh! hushaby! Where was it sleeping, Miss Eunice?”
“Here in my bed. Cricket, perhaps it would be better to take half a night apiece instead of every other night. I want some sleep. She thrashes like a whale. I’m all black and blue where she has punched me.”
By this time Mosina, hushed in Eliza’s arms, had gradually ceased crying and was shutting her sleepy eyes again.