The Tailor-Made Girl/A Duet
(The hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that rules the world.—Anon.)
Louise.—Oh, Helen, how your baby grows! He is quite catching up to Rupert.
Helen.—Yes; you know he's quite four months old now. I wish he would wake up.
Louise.—So he is—aren't they too sweet, anyway? Rupert has two teeth, you know.
Helen.—Oh, has he? I am crazy for Baby to show one. I thought I felt one yesterday, but nurse says I didn't.
Louise. —Oh, of course not. Rupert was six months old before he cut his first tooth.
Helen. —Was he? I'm sure Baby will do better than that; his gums feel really hard.
Louise.—Oh, Rupert's were hard, too, for fully two months before the tooth appeared.
Helen.—Were they? How disappointing!
Louise.—Oh, yes; it was such an event the day we discovered the little white pearl sticking through! I had been out, and—
Helen.—Oh, I do so hope I shall find Baby's tooth first—
Louise.—And when I came in, the dear little fellow looked up and cooed so sweetly—
Helen.—Baby is beginning to know me, too.
Louise.—That I couldn't wait to lay aside my wraps, but snatched him up, and began, as usual, to—
Helen.—Baby just loves to bury his nose in my seal-skin sacque. I put it on sometimes in the house just to let him enjoy it.
Louise.—To feel in his mouth for the tooth—
Helen.—My nurse has me rub my thimble over the gums every day—
Louise.—And fancy my delight to encounter a hard substance—
Helen.—You know the gold cannot possibly hurt him.
Louise.—Oh, no; and it relieves Rupert's gums so much, dear little soul! He is teething so hard now!
Helen.—Baby seems very restless when I am giving him his bath. I think it is his teeth.
Louise.—Very likely. Rupert never cries when I bathe him. I give him a good meal, and—
Helen.—Oh, Louise—why, Baby is never bathed until half an hour after he is fed.
Louise (impressively).—My dear, you must stop that at once! My book, "Advice to Young Mothers," says a child should never be bathed while hungry.
Helen.—Oh, but you know Doctor Mollycoddle, in his "Nursery Talks," expressly prohibits bathing a child on a full stomach—
Louise.—Experience is the best teacher, and Eupert is nine months old, and is always fed before his bath.
Helen.—Oh, I could never think of such a thing. Baby might have a convulsion!
Louise.—I should be much more afraid of Eupert's going into a convulsion from over-fatigue and restlessness if he were bathed when hungry—
Helen.-—Oh, I don't think so. Baby is as good as a little kitten, always.
Louise.—So is Eupert. Oh!—I have got to change my nurse!
Helen.—What a pity! Mine is an excellent one.
Louise.—Well, Margaret is good about a good many things; but so careless, I cannot put up with her.
Helen.—Elizabeth needs watching, of course; she forgot to put back the crib sheets half-an-hour before Baby was put to bed last night—
Louise.—Why, I found the temperature of the nursery seventy-one degrees on Monday. I never allow it above or below seventy degrees.
Helen.—Don't you? Doctor Mollycoddle favors sixty-eight degrees.
Louise.—My book recommends seventy degrees. Margaret is careless about other things, too; she—
Helen.—Elizabeth, on the whole, suits me very well.
Louise.—Margaret didn't take the temperature of Eupert's bath yesterday. I was so afraid it was too warm or too cold, and—
Helen.—Oh, yes, indeed, I am so particular about that!
Louise.—But I must go. Eupert's next feeding time is twelve o'clock and it is half-past eleven now—
Helen.—Oh, but Baby has not waked up.
Louise.—I never vary a minute.
Helen.—I wanted you to see how much darker Baby's eyes are—
Louise.—You must bring him over. Come in the afternoon. Eupert only goes out in the morning this weather, and you must see him.
Helen.—Oh, Baby could not be in the air after one o'clock!
Louise.—Oh, true, I forgot. Well, come and see me soon. I think Rupert's hair is going to curl beautifully.
Helen.—Baby has very little hair yet—but Dr. Mollycoddle says, in his book, it will be all the thicker by and by—
Louise.—Good-by, dear! I saw Kate Dillingham the other day.
Helen.—Did you? She sent Baby a lovely pap-spoon.
Louise.—How nice! She gave Rupert a set of dress buttons.
Helen.—Poor girl—I pity her!
Louise.—Oh, so do I—such a dreary life—no baby!
Helen.—Of course, her husband worships her—
Louise.—And she is popular with everybody.
Helen.—But that doesn't make up—
Louise.—Oh, no, indeed! Good-by! I'm so afraid I shall be late for Rupert—
Helen.—Good-by! Baby will be awake in another fifteen minutes if you could only stay.