"Irene! Irene! Little Irene! ain't you awful sweet?" cried the impetuous Oleah, snatching the baby from his mother's arms and smothering its screams of delight with kisses. So enthusiastic was the little fellow that the baby was in peril, and his mother, spite of his protestations, took it from him. As soon as released, little Irene's feet and hands began to play, and she responded, with soft cooing and baby laughter, to all the boys' noisy demonstrations. A youth, with large sad eyes and pale face, now entered the door. "Oh, come, Joe, come and see the baby!" cried Oleah. "Isn't it sweet? Just look at its pretty bright eyes and its cunning little mouth." Joe had visited the plantation frequently of late, and Mr. Tompkins having given orders that he should always be kindly treated, had finally established himself there, and was now considered rather a member of the household than a guest. The poor, insane boy came close to Mrs. Tompkins' side and looked fixedly at the baby for a few moments. An expression of pain passed over his face, as though some long forgotten sorrow was recalled to his mind. "I remember it now," he finally said. "It was at the great carnival feast, and after the gladiators fought, this babe, which was the son of the man who was slain, was given to the lions to devour, but although it was cast in the den, the lions would not harm a hair of its head." "Oh, no, Joe; you are mistaken," said Abner; "it was Daniel who was cast into the lions' den." "You are right," said Crazy Joe. "It was Daniel; but I remember this baby. It was one of the two taken by the cruel uncle and placed in a trough and put in the river. The river overflowed the banks and left the babes at the root of a tree, where the wolf found them, and taking compassion on the children, came every day and furnished them nourishment from his own breast." "No, no," interrupted Abner, who, young as he was, knew something of Roman mythology. "You are talking about Romulus and Remus." "Ah, yes," sighed the poor youth, striving in vain to gather up his wandering faculties; "but I have seen this child before. If it was not the one concealed among the bulrushes, then what can it be?" "It's our baby," put in Oleah, "and it wasn't in no bulrushes; it was in the clothes-basket on the porch." "It was a willow ark," said Joe; "its mother hid it there, for a decree had gone forth that all male children of the Israelites should be exterminated--" "No; it was a willow basket," interrupted Oleah. "Its mother shan't have it again. It's our little baby. This baby ain't a liverite, and it shan't be sterminated, shall it, mamma?" "No, dear; no one shall harm this baby," said Mrs. Tompkins. "It's our baby, isn't it mamma?" "Yes, my child, unless some one else comes for it who has a better right to it." "Who could that be, mamma?" "Perhaps its own father or mother might come--"