“Well, dear, you know best. Very likely you heard us laughing. I assure you we were quite merry. We drank his health ‘three times threeʼ—donʼt they call it about a baby? And I was nearly proposing _yours_; only a gentleman ought to do that. Oh, it was so interesting, and the wine superb—at least, so said the gentlemen; I do wish they had brought you some, dear.” “I am very glad they did not. It is so very lowering to a fine sense of the ideal. I heard you laughing, or making some noise; only I was so absorbed in these lovely poems. ‘To my Babe’ is so very beautiful, so expressive, so elevating! I feel every single word of it. And this sonnet about the first cropper! And the stanzas to his little red shoes, terminating with ‘pinch his nose!’ You have had so many husbands, dear; you must know all about it.” “My darling child, how I feel for you! But, in all probability, he will come up when both decanters are empty; let him find you in a good temper, dear.” But this (which must have grown into a row, for Georgie had even more spirit than tact, and Rosa was equal to anything), all this evil was averted, and harmony restored by the popping in of nurse, who had not taken her half–crowns yet, but considered them desirable, and saw them now endangered. “Goldylocks, Goldylocks! Oh, bring him here, nurse. Skillikins, dillikins! oh, such a dove! And if nobody else cares for poor mamma, he has got so much better taste, hasnʼt he?” Goldylocks very soon proved that he had; and Georgie, having quite recovered her temper, admired him so ecstatically, that even his mother thought her judgment was really worth something. “Give him to me; I canʼt do without him. O you beautiful cherub! Kicklewick, I am sure you never saw any one like him.” “That indeed I never did, maʼam,” answered nurse Kicklewick, holding her arms out, as if she must have him back again; “many a fine child I have seen, and done for to my humble ability, maʼam, since the time I were at Lord Eldergunʼs; and her ladyship said to me—ʼKicklewick,’ says she——” “Oh, his love of a nosey–posey! Oh, then his bootiful eyes, dick, dock! And then his golden hair, you know, so lovely, chaste, and rare, you know! Will um have a dancey–prancey?” And Georgie, forgetting all dignity, went through a little Polish dance, with the baby in her arms, to his very grave amazement, and the delight of all beholders. Although of the genuine Hutton strain, he was too young to crow yet, nevertheless he expressed approval in the most emphatic water–colours. Mrs. Huttonʼs heart was won for ever. “Oh, darling, I am so obliged to you. He has positively popped two bubbles. A thing he never did before! How can I ever repay you?” “By letting me come over and dance him twice a week. Oh, that I only had a boy!—because I do love boy–babies so.”