But the doctor pronounced the baby's bones as sound as ever.

"It is only little Miss Prudy whose nose is out of joint," added he.

Prudy ran to look in the glass, but could not see anything the matter
with her nose, or anything that looked like "a joint." But after this
she was as careful as a child of her heedless age can be, not to injure
her tender sister. She never again saw a silk handkerchief without
shaking it to make sure there was not a baby under it.

It was a long while before the friends could decide upon a name for this
beautiful stranger.

"For my part I have no choice," said Mr. Parlin, "and only one remark to
make; call the child by her right name, whatever it may be, for I am
very much opposed to pet names, of all sorts."

After every one else had spoken, Mrs. Parlin suggested that she would
like to call the baby Alice Barrow, in honor of a dear friend, now in
heaven.

She grew to be a fair, fat baby; and while her teeth were pricking
through, like little pointed pearls, Susy's front teeth were dropping
out. Then she grew to be a toddling child; and while she was learning to
walk, Prudy was beginning to sew patchwork. For time does not stand
still; it passed, minute by minute, over the heads of Susy, Prudy, and
Alice, as well as all the rest of the world. And soon it brought an end
to Alice's babyhood.