Honey-Sweet | Page 6

not thought about myself for an hour. Why did you mention the tiresome subject? That skirt must have another tuck, please. And it needs lace at the bottom. Just borrow some, dear, from any of my white things. Now I must have some sawdust."
The stewardess came to their help, and persuaded a steward to open a case of bottles and give her the sawdust in which they were packed. Mrs. Patterson received it with an exclamation of delight and held out a silver coin in return. But Vaughan put her hands behind her.
"Please'm," she said, "it ain't much. But I wanted to do something for that poor little orphant."
Mrs. Patterson smiled her thanks, then she pushed and shook and crammed the sawdust in place, taking a childlike eager interest in seeing the limp form grow shapely and firm. This done, she consented to take luncheon and a nap, after which Miss Drayton brought Anne to make her acquaintance. When Mrs. Patterson sent them out "for a whiff of fresh air," she thrust into her sister's hand a workbag with frilly white things to tuck and ruffle. Then she drew out her box of colors. Under her deft touches, now fast, now slow, the baby face grew life-like and lovable.
"She's to be a comfort baby for a troubled little mother," said Mrs. Patterson to herself. "She must be one of the happy-looking babies that one always smiles at."
And she was. Her mouth curved upward in a smile that brought out a dear little dimple in the left cheek, and her big blue eyes crinkled at the corners with a smile climbing upward from the lips. There were two shell-like little ears and some soft shadowy locks of hair, peeping out from under a lace-edged cap with strings tied under the chin.
When she was fitted out in the garments that Miss Drayton had fashioned, that lady exclaimed: "Why, Emily, Emily! You never painted a picture that was more beautiful. That darling smile! And the dimple!"
There was some debate as to when the doll should be presented and it was finally decided to give her as bed-time comfort. Promptly at eight o'clock, Mrs. Patterson insisted on undressing Anne, while Miss Drayton and Vaughan hovered outside the open door. Anne submitted rather unwillingly and took a long time to brush her teeth. Then she knelt down to say her prayers. After the
"Now I lay me down to sleep"
there followed silence. Indeed, she remained so long on her knees that Miss Drayton whispered to Mrs. Patterson a warning against standing and Vaughan moved to get a chair. The whisper brought Anne to her feet.
"I oughtn't kept you waiting," she said; and then she explained shamefacedly, "I wasn't saying my prayers for good. I was just saying them over and over for lonesome. It's--it's such a big night in here all by myself."
Mrs. Patterson gave her a good-night kiss and turned the covers back for her to snuggle in bed. And there--wonder of wonders!--there lay in the bed a whiterobed figure--a dear, beautiful, smiling baby doll. Anne looked at it for one breathless minute and then clasped it close.
"You precious! you lovely!" she exclaimed. "Is--is she my own baby?"
"Yes, she's yours," Mrs. Patterson assured her. "She came to take the place of Rosy Posy who had to stay at home. She hasn't 'long yellow curls' like Rosy Posy, but you see she's young yet--only a baby in long dresses. I think maybe her hair will grow."
Hugging the baby doll tight in one arm, Anne threw the other around Mrs. Patterson's neck, and kissed her again and again.
"You are so good. You are so good," she said over and over.
"What are you going to call your new baby?" asked Miss Drayton.
"I'd like to name her for you," Anne said, looking at Mrs. Patterson.
Mrs. Patterson smiled. "My name is Emily," she said.
"Then that's her name. Mrs. Emily Patterson. Only--" there was a thoughtful pause--"that does sound sorter 'dicalous for a baby in a long dress."
"Call her Emily Patterson," suggested the doll's namesake.
But Anne shook her head. "That wouldn't sound 'spectful," she objected; "and Patterson is your 'Mrs.' name." Then her face brightened. "Oh! Her name can be Mrs. Emily Patterson, and I'll call her a pet name. I don't like nicknames, but pet names are dear. She shall be what Aunt Charity used to call me--'Honey-Sweet.' I can sing it like she did:--
"'Honey, honey! Sweet, sweet, sweet! Honey, honey! Honey-Sweet!'"
As Anne crooned the words over and over, her voice sank drowsily. When Miss Drayton went a few minutes later to turn out the light, Anne was fast asleep, smiling in her dreams at Honey-Sweet who lay smiling on the pillow beside her.
CHAPTER V
The shipboard day passed, uneventful and pleasant. Anne had made for herself an explanation of her