as I can bear. The _children_ always make a fuss, just as sure as I
want to go out."

The old, impatient spirit was rising; that spirit which it was one of
the duties of Susy's life to keep under control.

She went into the bathing-room, and drank off a glass of cold water, and
talked to herself a while, for she considered that the safest way.

"Have I any right to be cross? Yes, I think I have. Here Dotty woke me
up, right in the middle of a dream, and I'm sleepy this minute. Then
Prudy is a little babyish thing, and always was--making a fuss if I
forget to call her Rosy Frances! Yes, I'll be cross, and act just as I
want to. It's too hard work to keep pleasant; I won't try."

She walked along to the door, but, by that time, the better spirit was
struggling to be heard.

"Now, Susy Parlin," it said, "you little girl with a pony, and a pair of
skates, and feet to walk on, and everything you want, ain't you ashamed,
when you think of that dear little sister you pushed down stairs--no,
didn't push--that poor little lame sister!--O, hark! there is your
mother winding up that hard splint! How would you feel with such a thing
on your hip? Go, this minute, and comfort Prudy!"

The impatient feelings were gone for that time; Susy had swallowed
them, or they had flown out of the window.

"Now Rosy Frances Eastman Mary," said she, "if your splint is all fixed,
I'll comb your hair."