ght, wouldn't she?"

Rosie wiped her eyes and sighed. "Is it cool in the country, Jarge?"

[Illustration: Rosie stared at him out of eyes that were very sad and
very serious.]

"You bet it is--just as cool and nice! The grass is green and wind's
always a-blowin' in the trees and you can hear the gurgle of the creek
down at the bottom of the meadow. And at night you can sleep on the big
upstairs porch, if you want to, and you always get a breeze up there.
And you needn't be afraid of mosquitoes and flies, either, 'cause mother
always has things screened in with black mosquito-netting. Oh, I tell
you it's just fine in the country!"

George paused a moment, then laughed a little apologetically.
"Leastways, Rosie, that's how I always think of the country now. Of
course we do have sizzling weather out there just as much as we do here;
but it's different, somehow. Out there you get a chance to cool off.
They ain't them ever-lasting paved streets all around you, sending out
heat like a furnace night and day just the same.... Do you know, I ain't
felt like myself for three weeks! If I was back home now I tell you what
I'd do: I'd go down to the creek and take a dip and then I'd come in
and, by gosh, maybe I wouldn't sleep!"

Rosie sighed again. "Well, no use talking about the country. It's the
city for ours, even if Geraldine does die."

Tears again threatened and George hastened to give the comforting
assurance: "Aw, now, Rosie, it ain't that bad, I know it ain't. Besides,
this weather can't keep up forever. We'll be having a thunderstorm any
time now, and that'll cool things off." Then, to change the subject:
"What does your mother say about Geraldine?"

"Pooh!" Rosie tossed her head in fine scorn. "I'd like to know what my
mother knows about babies!"

George protested. "She ought to know something. She's had a few
herself."

"Jarge Riley, you listen to me." Rosie looked at him fixedly. "With some
women, having babies don't mean one blessed thing! They just have 'em
and have 'em and have 'em, and that's all they know about them. Take me,
now, and I'm twelve, and take ma, and I don't know how old she is, but
she has had eight children, so you can judge for yourself, and right now
she's so ignur'nt about the proper care and feeding of babies that I
wouldn't dare trust Geraldine to her alone for twenty-four hours!"

Rosie paused impressively, then concluded with the damning statement:
"All the time she was taking car