“Tell me all about it,” Maida gasped. “Begin at the very beginning and don’t leave anything out.” “Well, then,” Rosie began, “I will. When I went to bed last night after leaving you, I got to thinking of my mother and pretty soon I was so sad that I nearly cried my eyes out. Well, after a long while I got to sleep and I guess I must have been very tired, for I didn’t wake up the way I do generally of my own accord. Aunt Theresa had to wake me. She put on my best dress and did my hair this new way and even let me put cologne on. I couldn’t think why, because I never dress up until afternoons. Once when I looked at her, I saw there were tears in her eyes and, oh, Maida, it made me feel something awful, for I thought she was going to tell me that my mother was dead. When I came downstairs, my father hugged me and kissed me and sat with me while I ate my breakfast. Oh, I was so afraid he was going to tell me that mother was dead! But he didn’t! After awhile, he said, ‘Your Christmas presents are all up in your mother’s bedroom, Rosie.’ So I skipped up there. My father and Aunt Theresa didn’t come with me, but I noticed they stood downstairs and listened. I opened the door.” Rosie stopped for breath. “Go on,” Maida entreated; “oh, do hurry.” “Well, there, lying on the bed was my mother. Maida, I felt so queer that I couldn’t move. My feet wouldn’t walk—just like in a dream. My mother said, ‘Come here, my precious little girl,’ but it sounded as if it came from way, way, way off. And Maida _then_ I could move. I ran across the room and hugged her and kissed her until I couldn’t breathe. Then she said, ‘I have a beautiful Christmas gift for you, little daughter,’ and she pulled something over towards me that lay, all wrapped up, in a shawl on the bed. What do you think it was?” “I don’t know. Oh, tell me, Rosie!” “Guess,” Rosie insisted, her eyes dancing. “Rosie, if you don’t tell me this minute, I’ll pinch you.” “It was a baby—a little baby brother.” “A baby! Oh, Rosie!” The two little girls hopped about the room in another mad dance. “Maida, he’s the darlingest baby that ever was in the whole wide world! His name is Edward. He’s only six weeks old and _he can smile_.” “Smile, Rosie?” “He can—I saw him—and sneeze!” “Sneeze, Rosie?” “That’s not all,” said Rosie proudly. “He can wink his eyes and double up his fists—and—and—and a whole lot of things. There’s no doubt that he’s a remarkable baby. My mother says so. And pretty as—oh, he’s prettier than any puppy I ever saw. He’s a little too pink in the face and he hasn’t much hair yet—there’s a funny spot in the top of his head that goes up and down all the time that you have to be dreadfully careful about. But he certainly is the loveliest baby I ever saw. What do you think my mother let me do?” “Oh, what?” “She let me rock him for a moment. And I asked her if you could rock him some day and she said you could.” “Oh! oh!” “And what else do you think she’s going to let me do?”