Then Rilla lifted the baby out
of the soup tureen and fed it. She brought down the old basket of her
own infancy from the attic and laid the now sleeping baby in it. She put
the soup tureen away in the pantry. Then she sat down to think things
over.
The result of her thinking things over was that she went to Susan when
the baby woke.
"I'm going to see what I can do, Susan. I can't let that poor little
thing go back to Mrs. Conover. Tell me how to wash and dress it."
Under Susan's supervision Rilla bathed the baby. Susan dared not help,
other than by suggestion, for the doctor was in the living-room and
might pop in at any moment. Susan had learned by experience that when
Dr. Blythe put his foot down and said a thing must be, that thing was.
Rilla set her teeth and went ahead. In the name of goodness, how many
wrinkles and kinks did a baby have? Why, there wasn't enough of it to
take hold of. Oh, suppose she let it slip into the water--it was so
wobbly! If it would only stop howling like that! How could such a tiny
morsel make such an enormous noise. Its shrieks could be heard over
Ingleside from cellar to attic.
"Am I really hurting it much, Susan, do you suppose?" she asked
piteously.
"No, dearie. Most new babies hate like poison to be washed. You are real
knacky for a beginner. Keep your hand under its back, whatever you do,
and keep cool."
Keep cool! Rilla was oozing perspiration at every pore.
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