"I'm her cousin," said Miss Rosetta, wiping her eyes, "and I have
come for the baby. I'll take it home with me after the funeral;
and, if you please, Mrs. Gordon, let me see it right away, so it
can get accustomed to me. Poor Jane! I wish I could have got
here in time to see her, she and I were such friends long ago.
We were far more intimate and confidential than ever her and
Charlotte was. Charlotte knows that, too!"

The vim with which Miss Rosetta snapped this out rather amazed
Mrs. Gordon, who couldn't understand it at all. But she took
Miss Rosetta upstairs to the room where the baby was sleeping.

"Oh, the little darling," cried Miss Rosetta, all her old
maidishness and oddity falling away from her like a garment, and
all her innate and denied motherhood shining out in her face like
a transforming illumination. "Oh, the sweet, dear, pretty little
thing!"

The baby was a darling--a six-months' old beauty with little
golden ringlets curling and glistening all over its tiny head.
As Miss Rosetta hung over it, it opened its eyes and then held
out its tiny hands to her with a gurgle of confidence.

"Oh, you sweetest!" said Miss Rosetta rapturously, gathering it
up in her arms. "You belong to me, darling--never, never, to
that under-handed Charlotte! What is its name, Mrs. Gordon?"

"It wasn't named," said Mrs. Gordon. "Guess you'll have to name
it yourself, Miss Ellis."