Holmes. "Servants are so heedless.
I do not know that molasses is good for Rebbie. What would you think, Mrs.
Carr?"

"I don't think it will hurt her if she doesn't get too much of it."

"There's no danger of her getting too much of it. Mrs. Smithers is too
stingy for that. Why, only yesterday, Willie told me that she refused to
let him dip his dry bread in the cream, and gave him a cup of plain milk
instead. Willie knows when his system needs cream and I want him to have
all the nourishment he can get. The idea that she should think she knew
more about it than Willie! She was properly punished for it, however. I
myself saw Willie throw a stick of stove wood at her and hit her foolish
head with it. I think Willie is going to be a soldier, a commander of an
army. He has so much executive ability and never misses what he aims at.

"Rebbie, don't chew on that side, darling; remember your loose tooth is
there. Mamma doesn't want it to come out."

"Why?" asked Dorothy, with a gleam of interest.

"Because I can't bear to have her little baby teeth come out and make her
grow up! I want to keep her just as she is. I have all my children's
teeth, and some day I am going to have them set into a beautiful bracelet.
Look at that! How generous and unselfish of Rebbie! She is trying to share
her bread with her doll. I believe Rebbie is going to be a philanthropist,
or a college-settlement worker. See, she is trying to give the doll the
molasses--the very best part of it. Did you ever see such a beautiful
spirit in one so young?"

Before Mrs. Carr could answer, young Ebeneezer had finished his wood
carving and had grabbed his protesting twin by the hair.

"There, there, Rebbie," soothed the mother, "don't cry. Brother was only
loving little sister. Be careful, Ebbie. You can take hold of sister's
hair, but not too hard. They love each other so," she went on. "Ebbie is
really sentimental about Rebbie. He loves to touch and stroke her glorious
blonde hair. Did you ever see such hair as Rebbie's?"

It came into Mrs. Carr's mind that "Rebbie's" hair looked more like a
plate of cold-slaw than anything else, but she was too wise to put the
thought into words.

Willie slid down the railing and landed in the hall with a loud whoop of
glee. "How beautiful to hear the sounds of childish mirth," said Mrs.
Holmes. "How----"

From upstairs came a cry of "Help! Help!"

Muffled though the voice was, it plainly issued from Uncle Israel's