I can sneeze for my own children, thank you, ma'am," returned Betty, sharply, for her usually amiable spirit had been ruffled by the late occurrences.
"I didn't sneeze! I've got enough to do to talk and cry and cough for my own poor dears, without bothering about yours," cried Bab, even more ruffled than her sister.
"Then who did?
I heard a real live sneeze just as plain as anything," and Betty looked up to the green roof above her, as if the sound came from that direction.
A yellow-bird sat swinging and chirping on the tall lilac-bush, but no other living thing was in sight.

"Birds don't sneeze, do they ?" asked Betty, eying little Goldy suspiciously.
"You goose! of course they don't." "Well.

I should just like to know who is laughing and sneezing round here.

May be it is the dog," suggested Betty looking relieved.
"I never heard of a dog's laughing, except Mother Hubbard's.

This is such a queer one, may be he can, though.