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She even smiled at her sodden fingers when had Miss Theodosia Baxter's fingers been sodden before! The next morning, the child and the childlier child appeared at her porch, where she rocked contentedly. "She's ironin' 'em! Stefana's ironin' 'em! No, I can't sit down; she said not to. She's ironed one dress three times. It's funny how irons stick, isn't it? No, not funny mercy gracious!
"What about 'Stefana and mothers'?" she prodded gently. A cloud had settled on the child's vivid little face and threatened to overshade the childlier child, as well. "I suppose 'Stefana' is a Spanish person, isn't she?" The name had a definitely foreign sound. "Oh, no'm just a United States. We're all United States. Mother named her; we've all got beautiful names, except poor Elly.
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!
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.
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