and the youngest are both called Neil—Big Neil and Little Neil in the same family. Well, I s’pose they ran out of names.”
“I have read somewhere,” laughed Anne, “that the first child is a poem but the tenth is very prosy prose. Perhaps Mrs. MacNab thought that the twelfth was merely an old tale re-told.”
“Well, there’s something to be said for large families,” said Miss Cornelia, with a sigh. “I was an only child for eight years and I did long for a brother and sister. Mother told me to pray for one—and pray I did, believe me. Well, one day Aunt Nellie came to me and said, ‘Cornelia, there is a little brother for you upstairs in your ma’s room. You can go up and see him.’ I was so excited and delighted I just flew upstairs. And old Mrs. Flagg lifted up the baby for me to see. Lord, Anne, dearie, I never was so disappointed in my life. You see, I’d been praying for a brother, two years older than myself.”
“How long did it take you to get over your disappointment?” asked Anne, amid her laughter.
“Well, I had a spite at Providence for a good spell, and for weeks I wouldn’t even look at the baby. Nobody knew why, for I never told. Then he began to get real cute, and held out his wee hands to me and I began to get fond of him. But I didn’t get really reconciled to him until one day a school chum came to see him and said she thought he was awful small for
