"Caloline ... Caloline ... is you going to wake up.... Oh, _do_ wake up, Caloline!" The voice was plaintive almost to tears. Caroline opened her eyes, paused, and then, with an effort, pushed herself forward, resting on her elbow. "Is there somebody there?" she asked, in such a funny, wavering voice. For answer a very hot and a very small hand came creeping over the white sheet like a little mouse. "It's me ... Babsy.... They've sented me away all the time, nasty unkind peoples. But I crawled in, and I _do_ want you, Caloline." "Climb up," said Caroline, faintly. It was a stupendous undertaking, entailing much slipping and dragging at the bed-clothes, but at last a small, hot, dishevelled little person had crawled close to the pillow and was kissing the white face lying there and cuddling a weak hand and arm as if it were a doll. And then confidences followed. "Betty's dog has comed; he's a awful duck, but she won't let me have nothing of him. Isn't she selfish?" "I will give you a dog, sweetheart." "A really one?" "A real one." "Nice, _dear_ Caloline!" The little soft face pressed close to the white one. "But not a wool-fur dog?" "No, a real one." Baby lay and stared dreamily about the room. "I'll give him jam," she said. Caroline laughed. "Fancy a real dog eating jam!" "Fancy a real growned-up thing going to sleep for all the days." "I am very sorry," said Caroline, humbly. The door was pushed open here in the softest way possible, and a voice whispered cautiously from the aperture---- "Baby.... Baby...." Baby giggled, and put her finger up in a warning fashion, but Betty was not deceived. "I know you're here," she said, "and you didn't ought to come. You know what Aunty Brenny said. You was to leave Caroline alone." "Nasty thing!" said Baby, suddenly, in abusive fashion. Caroline said, "Hush!" but this brought Betty straight to the bed. It took her just a minute to climb and nestle down on the other side. "How long has she been here, little pickle?" she demanded. The wooliness had gone from Caroline's brain. "Don't tease her, darling," she urged, and she smoothed Baby's downy cheek soothingly as she spoke. "She _is_ a pickle," retorted Betty. "A horrid pickle." Caroline made haste to avert a battle. "Watch the blind," she said, "and you will see the sunbeam fairy sail into the room." But Betty had no use for fairies this afternoon. "My dog's got a silver collar. He's called Box." "Who brought him?" asked Caroline, in a low voice. "Oh, Rupert, of course!" The girl's heart gave a bang. She tried to remember when it was that she had staggered into this cool, restful bed with that aching torture in her brow and eyes. "He will bite," said Betty. And Baby whispered eagerly---- "Mine will, too, won't he?" "I think I will get up," said Caroline; but Betty at once assumed a sitting posture. "You can't," she said, "you're clothes have all been took away." "Then I'll wear yours," said Caroline.