| PART 2
45. CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
 I cannot feel that I have done my duty as humble historian
 of the March family, without devoting at least one chapter to
 the two most precious and important members of it.  Daisy and
 Demi had now arrived at years of discretion, for in this fast
 age babies of three or four assert their rights, and get them, 
 too, which is more than many of their elders do.  If there
 ever were a pair of twins in danger of being utterly spoiled
 by adoration, it was these prattling Brookes.  Of course they
 were the most remarkable children ever born, as will be shown
 when I mention that they walked at eight months, talked fluently
 at twelve months, and at two years they took their places
 at table, and behaved with a propriety which charmed all beholders. 
 At three, Daisy demanded a `needler', and actually made
 a bag with four stitches in it.  She likewise set up
 housekeeping in the sideboard, and managed a microscopic cooking
 stove with a skill that brought tears of pride to Hannah's
 eyes, while Demi learned his letters with his grandfather, who
 invented a new mode of teaching the alphabet by forming letters
 with his arms and legs, thus uniting gymnastics for head and
 heels.  The boy early developed a mechanical genius which delighted
 his father and distracted his mother, for he tried to
 imitate every machine he saw, and kept the nursery in a chaotic
 condition, with his `sewinsheen', a mysterious structure of
 string, chairs, clothespins, and spools, for wheels to go
 `wound and wound'.  Also a basket hung over the back of a chair, 
 in which he vainly tried to hoist his too confiding sister, who, 
 with feminine devotion, allowed her little head to be bumped till
 rescued, when the young inventor indignantly remarked, "Why, 
 Marmar, dat's my lellywaiter, and me's trying to pull her up." Though utterly unlike in character, the twins got on remarkably
 well together, and seldom quarreled more than thrice
 a day.  Of course, Demi tyrannized over Daisy, and gallantly
 defended her from every other aggressor, while Daisy made a
 galley slave of herself, and adored her brother as the one perfect
 being in the world.  A rosy, chubby, sunshiny little soul
 was Daisy, who found her way to everybody's heart, and nestled
 there.  One of the captivating children, who seem made to be
 kissed and cuddled, adorned and adored like little goddesses, 
 and produced for general approval on all festive occasions.
 Her small virtues were so sweet that she would have been quite
 angelic if a few small naughtinesses had not kept her delightfully
 human.  It was all fair weather in her world, and every
 morning she scrambled up to the window in her little nightgown
 to look our, and say, no matter whether it rained or shone, 
 "Oh, pitty day, oh, pitty day!" Everyone was a friend, and she
 offered kisses to a stranger so confidingly that the most inveterate
 bachelor relented, and baby-lovers became faithful
 worshipers. |