BABY ETHEL.
By dint of much energy, she had succeeded in pulling one of the heavy chairs before the object of her most intense desire, and, climbing in, was in the act of leaning forward to grasp it, when Mrs. Hammond opened the door. “It” was a rare and wonderfully mounted clock, heavy enough to put Ethel’s busy inquiring brain at rest forever, should the strong little hands succeed in pulling it over on her; or, failing in that, should she lose her balance and pitch head-first against the corner of the cruel marble.
No time for exclamations; rather, enough presence of mind to avoid them. With swift, silent steps she moved across the room; a long room, and seeming to the startled mother miles long, just then. A moment more and she had the wide-awake, energetic, struggling, disappointed baby in her arms. So near to its life-purpose only to be thwarted!
The first thing the mother did, was to kiss Ethel; though her mouth was wide open, and from it were issuing loud, disappointed yells.
The next thing was to think aloud: “That is as much confidence as I was afraid I could place in Jennette. She is good for ruffling, and tucking, and ironing the baby’s dresses, but not for watching her.”
The next was to say within her heart, “I should think she might be able to help keep a baby out of mischief.”
But this last thought was not about Jennette.
