"So am I. If Katharine comes we can save all our Christmas festivities for the time she's here so there'll be plenty to entertain her."
"Ayleesabet is waking. Hullo, sweet lamb," and both girls leaned over the carriage, happy because their nursling condescended to smile on them when she opened her eyes. Miss Merriam brought out a cup of warm food when it was reported to her that her charge had finished her nap, and when the luncheon was consumed with evidences of satisfaction the Ethels took the carriage out on to the sidewalk. Elisabeth sat up, still sleepy-eyed and rosy from her nap, and gazed about her seriously at the road that was already becoming familiar.
"Oh, dear," sighed Ethel Blue under her breath, "there are the Misses Clark coming out of their house."
"I hope they aren't going to complain of Roger," Ethel Brown said, for Roger acted as furnace man for these elderly ladies who had gained for themselves a reputation of being ill-natured.
"It's too late to cross the street. They look as if they were coming expressly to speak to us. See, they haven't got their hats on."
It did indeed look as if the little procession was being waylaid, for the Misses Clark stood inside their gate waiting for the Ethels to come up.
"We saw you coming," they said when the carriage came near enough, "and we came out to see the baby. This is the Belgian baby?"
"Yes; this is Ayleesabet."
"Ayleesabet? Elisabeth, I suppose. Why do you call her that?"
"That's what she calls herself, and it seems to be the only word she remembers so we thought we'd let her hear it instead of giving her a new name."