Victoria. Oh, then you can tell us about it.
Miss Sommerfield. They take sick children and babies for two weeks. The house is large and clean, and quite near the water. Verandas go around three sides on every story. All the bedrooms open on to these verandas, and there, in the open air, the babies are wheeled, or rocked, or swung in hammocks. So they breathe that invigorating air day and night. The older children, as soon as they are able, dig in the sand, sheltered by tents. They have plenty of good milk to drink, bread and biscuit, oatmeal and mutton broth. The mothers have, in addition, meat, potatoes, tea, and coffee. The babies pick up surprisingly. They go away rosy and hearty. Many a life is saved.
Olive. What a pity they must go away.
Charlotte. Well, a fortnight is better than nothing. Isn't it the sweetest of charities? I am sure everybody in the hotel will come to our entertainment.
Miss Sommerfield. I heard one of the nurses singing lullaby while rocking some darling twin babies to sleep. I thought it so pretty I have remembered it. Would you like to hear it?
All. Please do. Yes, indeed.
[Miss Sommerfield repeats lullaby.]
By-by, babies, hushaby,
Night and sleep are drawing nigh,
Little birdies seek the nest,
Tired lambkins drop to rest,
By-by, babies, hushaby,
Stars are lighting up the sky,
Angels come to watch your beds;
Slumber, little curly-heads.
[Enter Helen Sayres and Daisy James.]
Helen. Good-afternoon, girls. I am awfully late, but I met Miss James and got talking to her, and didn't realize how time was passing. Miss James, young ladies.