"_Well!"_

The last utterance was Miss Theodosia Baxter's. She was a woman of few
words at all times where few sufficed. One sufficed now. The child on
her front porch, with a still childlier child on the small area of her
knees, was not a creature of few words, but now extreme surprise limited
speech. She was stricken with brevity,--stricken is the word--to match
Miss Theodosia's.

Downward, upward, each gazed into the other's surprised face. The
childlier child, jouncing pleasantly back and forth, viewed them both
impartially.

It was the child who regarded the situation, after a moment of mental
adjustment, as humorous. She giggled softly.

"Mercy gracious! How you surprised me' 'n' Elly Precious, an' me 'n'
Elly Precious surprised you! I don't know which was the whichest! We
came over to be shady just once more. We didn't s'pose you would come
home till to-morrow, did we, Elly Precious?"

"I came last night," Miss Theodosia replied with crispness. She stood in
her doorway, apparently waiting for something which--apparently--was not
to happen. The child and Elly Precious sat on in seeming calm.

"Yes'm. Of course if you hadn't come, you wouldn't be standin' there
lookin' at Elly Precious--isn't he a darlin' dear? Wouldn't you like to
look at his toes?"

It was Miss Theodosia Baxter's turn to say "Mercy gracious!" but she did