Billy. ``And that's the trouble. She says that's
the only thing that worries her--Cyril.''

``Nonsense!'' ejaculated Aunt Hannah.

``Oh, but it isn't nonsense to Marie,'' retorted
Billy. ``You should see the preparations she's
made and the precautions she's taken. Actually,
when I saw those baby's socks in her lap, I didn't
know but she was going to put rubber heels on
them! They've built the new house with deadening
felt in all the walls, and Marie's planned
the nursery and Cyril's den at opposite ends of
the house; and she says she shall keep the baby
there _all_ the time--the nursery, I mean, not the
den. She says she's going to teach it to be a quiet
baby and hate noise. She says she thinks she
can do it, too.''

``Humph!'' sniffed Aunt Hannah, scornfully.

``You should have seen Marie's disgust the
other day,'' went on Billy, a bit mischievously.
``Her Cousin Jane sent on a rattle she'd made
herself, all soft worsted, with bells inside. It
was a dear; but Marie was horror-stricken.
`My baby have a rattle?' she cried. `Why,
what would Cyril say? As if he could stand a
rattle in the house!' And if she didn't give that
rattle to the janitor's wife that very day, while