"I'm what you call asleep. I can only come here when I'm what you call asleep. Asleep, indeed! It's no wonder we always cry when we have to fall awake." "But we don't mean to be unkind to you," protested Jem, meekly. She could not help thinking Baby was very severe. "Don't mean!" said Baby. "Well, why don't you think more, then? How would you like to have all the nice things snatched away from you, and all the old rubbish packed off on you, as if you hadn't any sense? How would you like to have to sit and stare at things you wanted, and not to be able to reach them, or, if you did reach them, have them fall out of your hand, and roll away in the most unfeeling manner? And then be scolded and called 'cross!' It's no wonder we are bald. You'd be bald yourself. It's trouble and worry that keep us bald until we can begin to take care of ourselves; I had more hair than this at first, but it fell off, as well it might. No philosopher ever thought of that, I suppose!" "Well," said Jem, in despair, "I hope you enjoy yourself when you are here?" "Yes, I do," answered Baby. "That's one comfort. There is nothing to knock my head against, and things have patent stoppers on them, so that they can't roll away, and everything is soft and easy to pick up." There was a slight pause after this, and Baby seemed to cool down. "I suppose you would like me to show you round?" she said. "Not if you have any objection," replied Jem, who was rather subdued. "I would as soon do it as not," said Baby. "You are not as bad as some people, though you do get my clothes twisted when you hold me." Upon the whole, she seemed rather proud of her position. It was evident she quite regarded herself as hostess. She held her small bald head very high indeed, as she trotted on before them. She stopped at the first door she came to, and knocked three times. She was obliged to stand upon tiptoe to reach the knocker. "He's sure to be at home at this time of year," she remarked. "This is the busy season." "Who's 'he'?" inquired Jem. But Flora only laughed at Miss Baby's consequential air. "S.C., to be sure," was the answer, as the young lady pointed to the door-plate, upon which Jem noticed, for the first time, "S.C." in very large letters. The door opened, apparently without assistance, and they entered the apartment. "Good gracious!" exclaimed Jem, the next minute. "Good_ness_ gracious!"