"It _ought_ to be swept," she admitted to herself; "I can't do it--there isn't time.

I'll make it dark--" "I'd rather plan a dozen houses!" she fiercely muttered, as she fussed about.

"Yes--I'd rather build 'em--than to keep one clean!" Then were her hopes dashed by a rising wail from above.

She sat quite still awhile, hoping against hope that he would sleep again; but he wouldn't.

So she brought him down in full cry.
In her low chair by the window she held him and produced bright and jingling objects from the tall workbasket that stood near by, sighing again as she glanced at its accumulated mending.
Master Eddy grew calm and happy in her arms, but showed a growing interest in the pleasing materials produced for his amusement, and a desire for closer acquaintance.