"Oh, Rosie, Ellen wouldn't like that!"
"I don't care if she wouldn't! I guess she helps herself to other people's things. Besides, if she's so particular about her gentlemen friends, she ought to be glad to have Geraldine all powdered up with violet talc."
"Don't tell me, Rosie, that you mean to be puttin' Geraldine in the front room! Ellen'll be awful mad!"
"Let her be! When she begins to ramp around, you just sick her on to me! I'll be ready for her! Besides, I guess Geraldine's got some rights in this house!"
On the floor of the front room, between two chairs, Rosie made a cool little nest, protected with mosquito-netting. The tired baby sighed and turned and was asleep in two minutes.
"You poor little thing!" Rosie murmured as she stood a moment looking down at the dark circles under Geraldine's closed eyes and at the cruel prickly heat that was creeping up her neck. "You poor little thing!"
She went back slowly and thoughtfully to the kitchen. Before her mother she paused a moment, then looked up defiantly. "Ma, has Geraldine a clean dress to go out this afternoon in the baby-buggy?"
Mrs. O'Brien's face began to beam with delight. "Ah, now, do you mean to say——"
Rosie cut her off shortly. "Maggie O'Brien, if you say one word to me I'll drop the whole thing!"
Mrs. O'Brien stopped her ironing to stretch out a timid, conciliatory hand. "Rosie dear, why do you always be so sharp to your poor ma? I won't say a word, I promise I won't. Geraldine's things is at the bottom of the basket, and the moment I finish this waist of Ellen's I'll get at them."