Rosie rushed out of the kitchen, unable longer to endure the discussion. But she was back in a few moments, carrying towels and a large white basin.
"Why, Rosie dear, are you really goin' to give poor little Geraldine a nice——"
"Maggie O'Brien, if you say a single word to me I won't do a thing!" Rosie glared at her mother threateningly.
"Mercy on us, Rosie, how you talk! I won't say a word! I promise you on me oath I'll be as quiet as a mouse! You won't hear a sound out o' me, will she, baby darlint? I'll be like the deaf and dumb man at the Museum. He talks with his fingers, Rosie. You'd die laughin' to see him...."
At the cooling touch of water, little Geraldine quieted her whimpering and began to smile wanly. The sight of her neglected body made Rosie's anger blaze anew.
"Maggie O'Brien, I don't believe you've touched this baby for a week! You ought to be ashamed o' yourself! Just look at how chafed she is, and her body all over prickly heat, too!... Where's the corn-starch?"
"Rosie dear, I'm awful sorry, but we're out o' corn-starch. I've been meanin' this two days to have you get some."
"Well, I'd like to know what I'm going to put on Geraldine!"
"Couldn't you run over to the grocery now?"
"No, I can't! It's almost time for my papers. I know what I'll do: I'll borrow Ellen's talcum."