"I don't think they go with grapes," Rosie replied.

I tried to laugh, but it was hard. I hadn't even known Rosie an hour, and she was already getting on my nerves.

Getting on my nerves? I wanted to grab her by the collar and shake her.

But a good baby-sitter has patience, patience, patience. It's the secret to keeping your sanity — and your clients. "You sounded great," I said.

Rosie's face brightened a little. "I'm level four-plus in the district competition. Mrs. Wood says I'm double-A material." She looked at my blank expression, then added, "That's the highest grade," as if she were talking to the dumbest human being on Earth.

"Wow," I said, trying to look impressed. I spent the next few seconds trying to figure out something to say, then remembered her au-

dition. "What are you auditioning for?"

"Meet Me in St. Louis/' Rosie answered. "At the Hamlin Dinner Theater. It's for the role of Tootie — you know, the role Margaret O'Brien played in the movie. Do you want to see the song I'm preparing?"

"Okay," I said.

Before I could even finish the word, Rosie hopped out of her seat. "Come into the basement."

I followed her downstairs. The basement was set up like a dance studio — a bane along each wall, floor-to-ceiling mirrors, bright lights, and a cassette player on a table.

Rosie sat in a corner and changed into a pair of tap shoes. Then she stood up, flicked on the tape player, and ran to the center of the room. "Don't get too close," she said.

Some old-fashioned music started, and Rosie's face suddenly changed. It was as if someone had pasted a smile on her face. It was huge but fake.

The strangest thing was, there was something familiar about that smile. I couldn't figure out what.

Rosie began to sing a song I vaguely remember from an old Fred Astaire movie or something. Her voice was pretty good. Then she started tapping, and I was amazed. She was talented. I would have hired her in a min-