Mabel walked round and round her firmly seated charge in helpless despair. Rosa Marie and the sidewalk were one. "Want any help?" asked a friendly voice. It belonged to a large, freckled boy who was carrying two pails of water from the lake to one of the tumble-down houses. [Illustration: ROSA MARIE AND THE SIDEWALK WERE ONE.] "Yes, I do," responded Mabel, promptly. "If you could just lift this child high enough for me to get hold of her I think I could carry her." So the boy, setting his pails down, obligingly lifted Rosa Marie's solid little person, Mabel clasped the barrel-shaped body closely, and, after a word of thanks to the kind boy, proceeded homeward. But even now her troubles were not ended. By silently refusing to cuddle, Rosa Marie converted herself into a most uncomfortable burden. Her entire body was a silent protest against leaving her home. "Do make yourself soft and bunchy," pleaded Mabel, giving Rosa Marie sundry pokes, calculated to make her double up like a jack-knife. "Here, bend this way. _Haven't_ you any joints anywhere? Do hold tight with your arms and legs. _This_ way. Pshaw! You're just like a stuffed crocodile. Well, _walk_ then, if you can't hang on like a real child. There's one thing certain, you shan't sit down again. I s'pose we'll get there _sometime_." CHAPTER III Mabel's Day ALMOST hopeless as it seemed at times, Mabel and the silent brown baby finally reached Dandelion Cottage. There they found Jean, seated in a chair with her lovely little cousin Anne Halliday perched like a pink and white blossom on the edge of the dining table before her, tying Anne's bewitching yellow curls with wide pink ribbons. Anne was a perpetual delight, for, besides being a picture during every moment of the long day, her ways were so quaint and so attractive that no one could help admiring her. Marjory, her countenance carefully arranged to depict the deepest sorrow, stood guard over the Marcotte twins, who, touchingly covered with nasturtiums, were laid out on the parlor cozy corner, awaiting burial. Their blue eyes blinked and their pink toes twitched; but, on the whole, they played their parts in a most satisfactory manner. Bettie, with two small but attractive Tucker babies clinging to her brief skirts, was exclaiming: "These are my jewels," when tired, dusty Mabel, pushing reluctant Rosa Marie before her, walked in. "For mercy's sake, what's that!" gasped Jean, sweeping Anne Halliday into her protecting arms. "Is--is it something the cat dragged in?" asked Marjory. "Is--_can_ it be a _real_ child?" demanded Bettie. "This," announced Mabel, with dignity, "is _my_ child. Her name is Rosa Marie--with all the distress on the _ee_." "The distress seems to be all over both of you," giggled Marjory. "That's just dust," explained Mabel. "Did you both roll home like a pair of barrels?" queried Jean, "or did the Village Improvement folks use you to dust the sidewalks?"