"Gracious!" laughed the Small Person. "Do I look as bad as that? No,"
growing suddenly quite grave, "you will have to guess again. I'll give
you a cue--absorbent cotton."

"Absorb--" began Gloria in surprise, but stopped. The bag was open
under her eyes. She caught a confused glimpse of bottles and rolls of
something carefully done up in white tissue, of a dark blue pasteboard
box with a red cross on the visible end, of curiously-shaped scissors.

"See any jimmy?" queried the one beside her.

"No, but I don't know what I _do_ see."

"My dear--there's our car! Let me introduce you. The workbag, if you
please, of the District Nurse, Mary Winship. I have not the pleasure--"

"Gloria Abercrombie," bowed Gloria politely, but her eyes danced. She
liked this small, neat Mary Winship. They got into the car together.

"I live right across the street," Gloria added, when they were safely
seated.

"So do I! I've seen you over there rocking a magnificent gray cat. Does
it feel good?"

"The cat--Abou Ben Adhem? He's the warmest, softest thing!"

"No, sitting. I hardly ever do it, so I'm not a good judge. You always
look so rested over there--it rests me to see you."