“Smile, Rosie?”
“He can—I saw him—and sneeze!”
“Sneeze, Rosie?”
“That’s not all,” said Rosie proudly. “He can wink his eyes and double up his fists—and—and—and a whole lot of things. There’s no doubt that he’s a remarkable baby. My mother says so. And pretty as—oh, he’s prettier than any puppy I ever saw. He’s a little too pink in the face and he hasn’t much hair yet—there’s a funny spot in the top of his head that goes up and down all the time that you have to be dreadfully careful about. But he certainly is the loveliest baby I ever saw. What do you think my mother let me do?”
“Oh, what?”
“She let me rock him for a moment. And I asked her if you could rock him some day and she said you could.”
“Oh! oh!”
“And what else do you think she’s going to let me do?”
“I can’t guess. Oh, tell me quick, Rosie.”
“She says she’s going to let me give him his bath Saturdays and Sundays and wheel him out every day in his carriage.”