It was then the rooster crowed and Doris opened her eyes. They were eyes that danced, twinkled and sparkled all at once. They were brimming over with fun. They beamed coquettishly upon Mollie for an instant, then the rosebud lips parted and there came a sound of laughter like the tinkle of silver bells. "Muh--Mollie! Muh--Mollie!" the child chirruped, then laughed again in glee over her own cleverness, for Mollie had taught her the words before she went to sleep. "Oh, yo' doll! Yo' angel!" cried Mollie, cuddling the little one close in an ecstasy of joy. "An' ter think I don't even know yore name!" Another peal of silvery laughter greeted this statement. Just as if names counted for anything in the life of a baby! Little Doris didn't care that minute whether she had a name or not. She twisted her fingers in the meshes of Mollie's hair and as suddenly released them to throw her arms enthusiastically about her neck. She loved this muh-Mollie. She was glad that dumpy old nurse was gone. She had never liked her, anyway. So she cooed and kicked and wriggled and laughed in the exuberance of her joy. Mollie was enraptured. "Oh, baby, baby," she cried, "I'd jes' lov ter play wif yo' all day, but ef yo' only knowed--" The girl paused to crush the little one to her as if to protect her from threatened evil. Know! This beautiful child know the horrors and hardship of the ogre's farm! Never. She must never, never know. To be beaten and made to do hard, dirty work with those beautiful little hands! To be frightened and hungry and punished for nothing and perhaps flung into the bog? Oh, no, no! It must never be. Something must be done to save her. Mollie, herself, must do it. She was old enough, now, and strong enough to do something,--though she did not know what--to save both herself and the children. With feverish energy she hurried to get the children up and about their tasks. They were all hungry. They had gone supperless to bed. There was nothing to eat that morning save what they could steal from the animals or eat raw in the garden. Mollie contrived, however, to get milk for the baby. Then another problem presented. This new baby was not weak and passive like little Amy. This baby was robust and mischievous. She wanted to romp and play. She could not be left to her own devices. Someone must be with her every minute. They would have to take turns and they must not let old Grimes catch them idling. It was going to be difficult. Well, everything was difficult. They would just have to manage, that's all. "Muh-Mollie! Muh-Mollie!"