"In books and plays the mother always says, 'My baby, my own beautiful boy,' when they put her infant in her arms. The father always says, 'little mother!' You know, you've seen it in pictures. Well, _I_ said: 'It's ugly, take it away,' and Jerry lied to comfort me." Bobs and the nurse laughed at this tragic tale. "I like him better than I did at first, though. He has nice hands," Jane admitted. Bobs inspected the hero again. "I think he's a duck of a bambino," she said. "He looks quite human." "Well, I should hope so," said his mother indignantly. "This room looks like a garden, Jane." "Isn't it lovely? Jerry is beggaring himself. All the dear people in the studios, the Brendons, even Althea, sent a tribute. And Martin sends flowers every day. I find I love being a part of this smooth mechanism. I like the things the nurse feeds me, and my importance. I'm ruined, probably." Jerry came in. "Hello, Bobs. Doesn't she look fine?" "She does." "Did she let you see the exhibit over here?" "I forced her to, the unwomanly thing. She derides his manly beauty." "He'll be all right when he grows up to his skin," laughed Jerry. "Talk about the Magic Skin, he's got enough for a fat man. It took some ingenuity to get it wrinkled up all over him, so he could carry it." "You unfeeling parents! I hope he hears every word you say, and turns against you in your old age." "We feel that he is interesting, but not beautiful, don't we, Jane?" She nodded, smiling. "I shall repeat this to you at times when you are doting on his looks." "We'll take your dare, Bobs. Say, Jane, when do you want to see Christiansen? He asked me when he could pay his respects." "Let him come to-morrow, Jerry, at five." "'Tis done. Ever see such a model husband, Bobs?" "I invite you both to come to-morrow at five." "Let's take her up, Bobs, and watch our Martin pin a rose on handsome Jerry." Jane sat in the early dusk the next evening and watched the lights come out along the river banks, and twinkle on the boats. Martin was announced, and she went to him, hands out, face shining. "But it is a miracle!" he exclaimed. "You are well, and beautiful again. Where is this mythical child?" She laughed and led him to the bed where the baby lay, wide-eyed, inspecting the brand-new universe. "This is Martin, my son. I want you to be friends," she said softly to him. Martin bent to insert one forefinger in the tightly closed fist. "How do you do, my lad? I greet you to this planet." The baby looked at the source of the big voice. Then an infantile spasm crossed his face. "Ha! he laughs at our planet! He knows Venus, perhaps, or Mars." "He looks as if he had known the jungle. He's like a wise little old monkey," laughed Jane. "So he is. That always fascinates me about the young of our race, they seem to hook us on to our past, to our blood brothers Babu and Mowgli, the Manling. You remember how Whitman said it?