“Naw, gal, naw!” laughed Judy, putting number fifteen, who began to yell vigorously, back into its cradle. “Hain’t nuffin de matter wid him, ’cep’in’ he so mighty little; fur yo’ sho’ does look lack er gal er-totin’ er doll. Dar hain’t nuffin de matter wid him; he des sleepy.” “Do er baby allus breave dat way?” Cely was twisting her apron nervously. “Does dey allus ’beat, beat,’ in de top er de head an’ in de chist dat er way? Tek off his clo’es an’ look, Judy.” Maumer frowned and turned on her heel when Judy good-naturedly took the little bundle from her arms and stripped the blue checked slip from Cely’s latest doll. “Hain’t he putty ’dout any clo’es?” cried Cely, beguiled from her fear by her admiration of the brown, bow-legged Cupid squirming on Judy’s knee. “Cely proud fitten ter bus’; she des wanter show her baby off,” said the mother of the ugliest baby in the Nursery. “Hain’t nuffin wrong wid him, Cely, ’cep’in’ he little, an’ if he lib, he’ll grow,” said Judy, oracularly, as she relinquished the child. “All de young things—birds, an’ rabbits, an’ babies—beat dat er way in de head an’ in de chist. Dar de bell now!” and Judy folded her sun-bonnet and laid it, slats sidewise, on the top of her head. Cely sighed as the teasing laugh of the women rang back to her; then, with a parting caress, she laid her baby in the cradle and followed. Old Maumer, bent and sullen, stood in the doorway until the last figure had turned the hill-path. “Think I dun’no’ nuffin ’bout babies, when I nussed dat berry Cely, wid all de airs she gibs herse’f, right here in dis cradle. Heap er use she got wid er baby, an’ she hain’t hardly er ’oman yit, an’ Ole Miss an’ Little Miss myratin’ so. “Cely got some putty whi’ clo’es wid lace on, an’ some blue beads too, dat Little Miss tek offen her big doll fur de baby; an’ Cindy got nuffin but er blue chany mug, an’ sumpen ter eat fum de Big House. Cindy sech er hog; allus ax Ole Miss fur sumpen ter eat when she down. If hit wa’n’t fur Cely, Cindy’d er got all dem beads an’ things, ’case dey’s de two littlest babies, but dey’s des lack es two peas.” Maumer had taken Cindy’s feverish child in her arms again; then moving with a sudden impulse, she laid it in the cradle beside Cely’s baby. “Es lack es peas in one pod,” she whispered. “If hit wa’n’t fur Cely’s, Ole Miss would mighty much dis’n, ’case he de putties’ in de Nursery, ’cep’in’ Cely’s, an’ he de onlies’ gran’chile dat I got.” Cindy’s baby moaned as if in pain, and Maumer took him up again. “I dun’no’ what ail him—hain’t time fur ’is teef ter mek trouble, but his mouf pester me mightily. I’s tired er de whi’ folkses’ physic; I gwine fix my own truck. If he do git worser—if he do—” Maumer looked at the blue beads around the neck of Cely’s sleeping baby, and then into the face of the little sufferer before her, with a leer of latent cunning. * * * * *