taskmistress. 

 “Lie that way a while,” said Chiswick coldly. “Get used to it,” and she went away. 

 Marjorie laid her cheek on the cool sheet and thought. It was a rather pleasant position. It gave her a comfortable compressed sensation below the waist. She liked it but she could not afford to be idle. She raised her head and peered around, as a tortoise peers, lengthening her neck. A foot beyond her reach she saw her rattle. She stretched her hands for it and only succeeded in bringing her pudgy little nose flat against the sheet. She kicked with her feet, but even that did not bring the rattle within reach; it only served to rock her gently to and fro on her stomach. Marjorie needed the rattle. She had still several hundred shakes to give it before her day's work would be complete. And the rattle needed Marjorie; it looked forlorn and lonely. Even as she considered the matter Marjorie found that she was raising her body on her plump little arms. They were acting like little posts to elevate her shoulders and head. Then, in a most phenomenal way, one knee doubled itself and drew up under her body, and the other followed it, and she was on her hands and knees. 

 From this frightfully elevated position the rattle appeared quite near, so near that it seemed as if she could touch it. She put out a hand, and lo! the whole fabric of herself that she had reared, collapsed, and she was sprawled flat on the sheet. 

 But the rattle certainly seemed nearer. She tried it again, and this time she put her hand forward only a little way, and followed it with the other, but she was firmly anchored at the rear, and there was no elasticity in her body. It would not stretch another inch. She thought of her legs reproachfully. But for them she might even now have the rattle. Her legs felt the reproach and wiggled with shame. They knew they were in disgrace and they longed to come closer and nestle lovingly against Marjorie. One of them moved forward slowly and paused. Its fellow, fearing it was being deserted, moved up beside it, but cruel Marjorie moved her hands forward again. 

 She could almost touch the rattle! One more forward movement of her legs and— 

 Chiswick, turning, saw it just in time. She was beside the crib in one bound, and her right hand pressed down upon Marjorie and squeezed her deep into the softness of the crib, and held her there kicking and squealing. 

 “Land sakes!” cried Chiswick. “You're breaking the schedule! 

 Prev. P 14/29 next