"Do you suppose," she said, a few moments later, when the cook and
steward had shown symptoms of doing something beside lean against the
sink and whistle, "do you suppose you could get along for a few minutes
while I went up and dressed my dolls?"

Isaiah turned to stare at her.

"Well," he stammered, "I--I cal'late maybe I could if I tried hard.
If you don't beat anything ever I see! What are you doin' with that
pitcher?"

The girl was holding the wash pitcher under the pump.

"I'm fillin' it," she answered. "Then you won't have to have it on your
mind any more. I'll hurry back just as fast as I can."

She hastened out, bearing the brimming pitcher with both hands. Isaiah
gazed after her, muttering a word or two, and then set about clearing
the breakfast table.

She was down again shortly, the two favorites, Rose and Rosette, in her
arms. She placed them carefully in the kitchen chair and bade them be
nice girls and watch mother do the dishes.

"I left the others in the bedroom," she explained. "Minnehaha ain't very
well this mornin'. I guess the excitement was too much for her. She is a
very nervous child."

Isaiah's evident amusement caused her to make one of her odd changes
from childish make-believe to grown-up practicability.