"Why, Ede!" cried her mother, repressing an inclination to laugh. Joe Markey, a handsome, broad-shouldered man of thirty-five, picked up his son and set him on his feet. "You're a fine fellow," he said jovially. "Let a girl knock you over! You're a fine fellow." "Did he bump his head?" Mrs. Markey returned anxiously from bowing the next to last remaining mother out the door. "No-o-o-o," exclaimed Markey. "He bumped something else, didn't you, Billy? He bumped something else." Billy had so far forgotten the bump that he was already making an attempt to recover his property. He seized a leg of the bear which projected from Ede's enveloping arms and tugged at it but without success. "No," said Ede emphatically. Suddenly, encouraged by the success of her former half-accidental manœuvre, Ede dropped the teddy-bear, placed her hands on Billy's shoulders and pushed him backward off his feet. This time he landed less harmlessly; his head hit the bare floor just off the rug with a dull hollow sound, whereupon he drew in his breath and delivered an agonized yell. Immediately the room was in confusion. With an exclamation Markey hurried to his son, but his wife was first to reach the injured baby and catch him up into her arms. "Oh, _Billy_," she cried, "what a terrible bump! She ought to be spanked." Edith, who had rushed immediately to her daughter, heard this remark, and her lips came sharply together. "Why, Ede," she whispered perfunctorily, "you bad girl!" Ede put back her little head suddenly and laughed. It was a loud laugh, a triumphant laugh with victory in it and challenge and contempt. Unfortunately it was also an infectious laugh. Before her mother realized the delicacy of the situation, she too had laughed, an audible, distinct laugh not unlike the baby's, and partaking of the same overtones. Then, as suddenly, she stopped. Mrs. Markey's face had grown red with anger, and Markey, who had been feeling the back of the baby's head with one finger, looked at her, frowning. "It's swollen already," he said with a note of reproof in his voice. "I'll get some witch-hazel." But Mrs. Markey had lost her temper. "I don't see anything funny about a child being hurt!" she said in a trembling voice. Little Ede meanwhile had been looking at her mother curiously. She noted that her own laugh had produced her mother's, and she wondered if the same cause would always produce the same effect. So she chose this moment to throw back her head and laugh again. To her mother the additional mirth added the final touch of hysteria to the situation. Pressing her handkerchief to her mouth she giggled irrepressibly. It was more than nervousness--she felt that in a peculiar way she was laughing with her child--they were laughing together. It was in a way a defiance--those two against the world. While Markey rushed up-stairs to the bathroom for ointment, his wife was walking up and down rocking the yelling boy in her arms.