“Finish your prayers first, Jane.”

Jane obeyed with a swiftness in which there was no intentional irreverence.  Then she jumped into bed and began a fresh revelation.

“It’s about papa’s clo’es, mamma.”

“What clothes of papa’s?  What do you mean, Jane?” asked Mrs. Baxter, puzzled.

“The ones you couldn’t find.  The ones you been lookin’ for ’most every day.”

“You mean papa’s evening clothes?”

“Yes’m,” said Jane.  “Willie’s got ’em on.”

“What!”

“Yes, he has!” Jane assured her with emphasis.  “I bet you he’s had ’em on every single evening since Miss Pratt came to visit the Parchers!  Anyway, he’s got ’em on now, ’cause I saw ’em.”

Mrs. Baxter bit her lip and frowned.  “Are you sure, Jane?”

“Yes’m.  I saw him in ’em.”

“How?”

“Well, I was in my bare feet after I got undressed—­before you came up-stairs—­mamma, an’ I was kind of walkin’ around in the hall—­”

“You shouldn’t do that, Jane.”

“No’m.  An’ I heard Willie say somep’m kind of to himself, or like deckamation.  He was inside his room, but the door wasn’t quite shut.  He started out once, but he went back for somep’m an’ forgot to, I guess.  Anyway, I thought I better look an’ see what was goin’ on, mamma.  So I just kind of peeked in—­”

“But you shouldn’t do that, dear,” Mrs. Baxter said, musingly.  “It isn’t really quite honorable.”

“No’m.  Well, what you think he was doin’?” (Here Jane’s voice betrayed excitement and so did her eyes.) “He was standin’ up there in papa’s clo’es before the lookin’-glass, an’ first he’d lean his head over on one side, an’ then he’d lean it over on the other side, an’ then he’d bark, mamma.”

“He’d what?”

“Yes’m!” said Jane.  “He’d give a little, teeny bark, mamma—­kind of like a puppy, mamma.”

“What?” cried Mrs. Baxter.

“Yes’m, he did!” Jane asserted.  “He did it four or five times.  First he’d lean his head way over on his shoulder like this—­look, mamma!—­an’ then he’d lean it way over the other shoulder, an’ every time he’d do it he’d bark.  ‘Berp-werp!’ he’d say, mamma, just like that, only not loud at all.  He said, ‘Berp-werp!  Berp-werp-werp!’ You could tell he meant it for barkin’, but it wasn’t very good, mamma.  What you think he meant, mamma?”

“Heaven knows!” murmured the astonished mother.

“An’ then,” Jane continued, “he quit barkin’ all of a sudden, an’ didn’t lean his head over any more, an’ commenced actin’ kind of solemn, an’ kind of whispered to himself.  I think he was kind of pretendin’ he was talkin’ to Miss Pratt, or at a party, maybe.  Anyways, he spoke out loud after while not just exactly loud, I mean, but anyway so’s ’t I could hear what he said.  Mamma—­he said, ‘Oh, my baby-talk lady!’ just like that, mamma.  Listen, mamma, here’s the way he said it:  ’Oh, my baby-talk lady!’”