"Dunno what you mean! I've no notion of working against you, Cousin. And don't you be high and mighty with _me_! We'll get along all right, if you meet me half way, but--" Patty saw her chance. "Good, Azalea! There's my hand on that! We'll meet each other half way, and you consider my wishes and I'll consider yours." The danger point was passed and Azalea smiled again. "I want to see the baby," she said suddenly. "I love babies." "To-morrow, please. She's asleep now." "Well, I can look at her. I won't wake her. I'll be awful careful." This interest in Fleurette touched Patty's mother heart, and she consented. "Can I go this way?" said Azalea, looking at her kimono. This garment was,--not entirely to Patty's surprise,--a horror of gaily flowered silkoline, but as they would see no one but the nurse, she said, "Yes; come along." To the nursery they went and there, in her bassinette lay the baby, asleep. She looked like a lovely little flower, indeed, and Patty gazed with adoring eyes at the flushed little face. "Oh!" cried Azalea, aloud, "what an angel baby!" "Hush!" whispered Patty, "don't wake her!" and Nurse Winnie stood around in a state of nervous apprehension. "No, I won't," Azalea said, in such a loud whisper, that it was scarce a whisper at all,--rather a muffled shout. And then she poked her forefinger into the baby's roseleaf cheek. "Pretty!" she said, beaming at the child. "Oh, don't touch her!" Patty cried out. "Come away, Azalea!" for she really didn't know what the strange girl would do next. "Pshaw! I didn't hurt her. If she's such a touch-me-not, she's no fun at all! But every-body's like that with their first baby! Silly! Fussy! Just ridiculous!" "I daresay," laughed Patty, determined not to show her annoyance. "But it's time to dress for dinner,--or nearly. Come back to your room,--and--wouldn't you like to take a fifteen minute nap? It might refresh you." "It would _not_! Take a nap in broad daylight! I never heard of such a thing! Oh, well, if I can't speak to that kid let's go back to my room. I'll skittle into my frock and go down to that flowery, bowery piazza again. I like that." "What shall you put on?" asked Patty, interestedly, as Azalea made a mad dive into her trunk. "Dunno. What say? This?" She held up a mussy looking white muslin, trimmed with coarse embroidery and some imitation lace. "That will do nicely," Patty said, relieved that it was at least white, and not some of the flamboyant effects she saw still in the trunk. "Janet will press it off for you,--it's rumpled from packing. And then you needn't unpack, dear, Janet will do that for you." "Oh, I thought you told me not to call on the servant for anything!" "No," Patty said, discouraged, "I didn't quite say that,--here's Janet now. Let her do your hair for you!" "Do my hair! Mercy gracious! I should say not! I've never had that done for me."