"We appreciate them, in our way, little woman; but it is not a fussy way. We are content with them as they are, and are not in any hurry for them to run, or to walk, or to cut their first teeth. Tom is a fine little chap, and I am very fond of him, in his way--principally, perhaps, because he is your Tom--but I cannot see that he is a prodigy." "He is a prodigy," Mrs. Ripon said, with a little toss of her head, "and I shall go up to the nursery, to admire him." So saying, she walked off with dignity; and Captain Ripon went out to look at his horses, and thought to himself what a wonderful dispensation of providence it was, that mothers were so fond of their babies. "I don't know what the poor little beggars would do," he muttered, "if they had only their fathers to look after them; but I suppose we should take to it, just as the old goose in the yard has taken to that brood of chickens, whose mother was carried off by the fox. "By the way, I must order some wire netting. I forgot to write for it, yesterday." Another two months. It was June, and now even Captain Ripon allowed that Tom could say "Pa," and "Ma," with tolerable distinctness; but as yet he had got no farther. He could now run about sturdily and, as the season was warm and bright, and Mrs. Ripon believed in fresh air, the child spent a considerable portion of his time in the garden. One day his mother was out with him, and he had been running about for some time. Mrs. Ripon was picking flowers, for she had a dinner party that evening, and she enjoyed getting her flowers, and arranging her vases, herself. Presently she looked round, but Tom was missing. There were many clumps of ornamental shrubs on the lawn, and Mrs. Ripon thought nothing of his disappearance. "Tom," she called, "come to mamma, she wants you," and went on with her work. A minute or two passed. "Where is that little pickle?" she said. "Hiding, I suppose," and she went off in search. Nowhere was Tom to be seen. She called loudly, and searched in the bushes. "He must have gone up to the house. "Oh, here comes nurse. Nurse, have you seen Master Tom? He has just run away," she called. "No, ma'am, I have seen nothing of him." "He must be about the garden then, somewhere. Look about, nurse. Where can the child have hidden itself?" Nurse and mother ran about, calling loudly the name of the missing child. Five minutes later Mrs. Ripon ran into the study, where her husband was going through his farm accounts. "Oh, Robert," she said, "I can't find Tom!" and she burst into tears. "Not find Tom?" her husband said, rising in surprise. "Why, how long have you missed him?" "He was out in the garden with me. I was picking flowers for the dinner table and, when I looked round, he was gone. Nurse and I have been looking everywhere, and calling, but we cannot find him."