“By-an’-by’s” baby began to grow perceptibly. “By-an’-by” just kept on growing, ’lowin’ t’ stop sometime—by-an’-by. It happened—by-an’-by. This was when he was two-and-twenty: by which time, according to enthusiastic observers from a more knowing and appreciative world, he was Magnificent. The splendor consisted, it was said, in bulk, muscle, and the like, somewhat, too, perhaps, in poise and glance; but Blunder Cove knew that these external and relatively insignificant aspects were transcended by the spiritual graces which “By-an’-by” Brown displayed. He was religious; but it must be added that he was amiable. A great, tender, devoted dog: “By-an’-by” Brown. This must be said for him: that if he by-an’-byed the unpleasant necessities into a future too distant to be troublesome, he by-an’-byed the appearance of evil to the same far exile. After all, it may be a virtue to practise the art of by-an’-bying. As for the baby at this period, the age of seven years, the least said the less conspicuous the failure to say anything adequate. Language was never before so helplessly mocked. It may be ventured, however, to prove the poverty of words, that dispassionately viewed through the eyes of “By-an’-by” Brown, she was angelic. “Jus’ a wee li’l’ mite of a angel!” said he. Of course, this is not altogether original, nor is it specific; but it satisfied “By-an’-by” Brown’s idea of perfection. A slim little slip of a maid of the roguishly sly and dimpled sort: a maid of delicate fashioning, exquisite of feature—a maid of impulsive affections. Exact in everything; and exacting, too—in a captivating way. And herein was propagated the germ of disquietude for “By-an’-by” Brown: promising, indeed (fostered by the folly of procrastination), a more tragic development. “By-an’-by’s” baby was used to saying, You _told_ me so. Also, But you _promised_. The particular difficulty confronting “By-an’-by” Brown was the baby’s insistent curiosity, not inconsistent with the age of seven, concerning the whereabouts of her father and the time and manner of his return. Brown had piqued it into being: just by saying—“By-an’-by!” “Ay,” says she; “but _when_ will he be comin’ back?” “Why,” he answered, bewildered—“by-an’-by!” It was a familiar evasion. The maid frowned. “Is you sure?” she demanded, sceptically. “Ye bet ye!” he was prompt to reply, feeling bound now, to convince her, whatever came of it; “he’ll be comin’ back—by-an’-by.” “Well, then,” said the maid, relieved, “I s’pose so.”