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"I didn't name myself, in the first place; did I? Sinsie had to be Sinsie; and then how am I accountable for the blessed luck that gave me for best friends dear old Marmaduke Wharne and Kerenhappuch Craydocke?" But down in the kitchen, and up in the nursery, there was disapproval. "It was bad enough," they said, these orderers of household administration, "when there was two.
Frank Scherman's; and Frank and his wife and little Sinsie, the baby, "she isn't Original Sin, as I was," says her mother, came up to Z together, and stopped at the hotel. Martha Josselyn came from New York, and stayed, of course, with the Inglesides. Martha is a horrible thing, girls; how do you suppose I dare to put her in here as I do? She is a milliner. And this is how it happens.
Scherman caught up Sinsie into her lap, and gave her a great congratulatory hug. "Do you suppose it will last, little womanie? If it isn't all gone in the morning, what comfort we'll have in keeping house and taking care of baby!" The daughter is so soon the "little womanie" to the mother's loving anticipation!
Bel Bree had got her arm round little Sinsie, who had crept up to her side inquisitively; and Kate was making a funny face over her shoulder at Marmaduke, alternately with the pleased attentive glance she gave to his pretty young mother and her speaking. "Yes'm," Bel answered. "We want places. We are sewing-girls. We have lost our work by the fire, and we were getting tired of it before.
"Then you're the great sparrow," put in Sinsie, coming up beside her, laughing. "Whose sparrow are you?" Asenath looked up at her husband. "Yes; it's a true story, after all. You can't make up anything. It has been all told before. We're all sparrows, Sinsie, God's sparrows." "In cages?" "Yes. Only we can't always see the wires. They are very fine. There! That's as far as you or I can understand.
"I'll tell you what," said Sinsie, confidentially; "sparrows don't have girls to interfere, do they? They live in the cages and help themselves. I like it. I'm glad Agnes is gone."
She played with Sinsie in her baby-house; she did over again, with her, in little, the things she was doing on not so very much larger scale, for actual every day. She invented plays for Marmaduke which kept the little man in him busy and satisfied.
Now be good little birdies, and hop round here together till mamma comes back." She went into her own room, to the tiniest little birdie of all, that was just waking. Sinsie and Marmaduke had got a new play, now. They were quite contented to be sparrows, and chirp at each other, springing and lighting about, from one green spot to another in the pattern of the nursery carpet.
Scherman came down-stairs to let them in again, with Marmaduke holding to her hand, and Sinsie hopping along behind. They all went into the kitchen together. Mrs. McCormick had "cleared it up," so that there was at least a surface tidiness and cheerfulness. The floor was freshly scrubbed, the table-tops scoured down, the fire made, and the gas lighted. Mrs.
This was one more place for them also; a treat and a change to Sinsie and Marmaduke, or a perfectly safe and sweet and comfortable resource in tending Baby Karen, who would lie content on the soft quilts by the half hour, feeling in the blind, ignorant way that little babies certainly do, the novelty and rest. The household, you see, was melting into one; the spirit of home was above and below.
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