“Aunt Hannah, _please!_” protested Billy, both hands upraised in horror. “_Won't_ you say 'dog,' and leave out that dreadful 'ickey wickey'? Of course he can't understand things now, really, but we never know when he'll begin to, and we aren't ever going to let him hear baby-talk at all, if we can help it. And truly, when you come to think of it, it is absurd to expect a child to talk sensibly and rationally on the mental diet of 'moo-moos' and 'choo-choos' served out to them. Our Professor of Metaphysics and Ideology in our Child Study Course says that nothing is so receptive and plastic as the Mind of a Little Child, and that it is perfectly appalling how we fill it with trivial absurdities that haven't even the virtue of being accurate. So that's why we're trying to be so careful with Baby. You didn't mind my speaking, I know, Aunt Hannah.” “Oh, no, of course not, Billy,” retorted Aunt Hannah, a little tartly, and with a touch of sarcasm most unlike her gentle self. “I'm sure I shouldn't wish to fill this infant's plastic mind with anything so appalling as trivial inaccuracies. May I be pardoned for suggesting, however,” she went on as the baby's whimper threatened to become a lusty wail, “that this young gentleman cries as if he were sleepy and hungry?” “Yes, he is,” admitted Billy. “Well, doesn't your system of scientific training allow him to be given such trivial absurdities as food and naps?” inquired the lady, mildly. “Of course it does, Aunt Hannah,” retorted Billy, laughing in spite of herself. “And it's almost time now. There are only a few more minutes to wait.” “Few more minutes to wait, indeed!” scorned Aunt Hannah. “I suppose the poor little fellow might cry and cry, and you wouldn't set that clock ahead by a teeny weeny minute!” “Certainly not,” said the young mother, decisively. “My 'Daily Guide for Mothers' says that a time for everything and everything in its time, is the very A B C and whole alphabet of Right Training. He does everything by the clock, and to the minute,” declared Billy, proudly. Aunt Hannah sniffed, obviously skeptical and rebellious. Alice Greggory laughed. “Aunt Hannah looks as if she'd like to bring down her clock that strikes half an hour ahead,” she said mischievously; but Aunt Hannah did not deign to answer this. “How long do you rock him?” she demanded of Billy. “I suppose I may do that, mayn't I?” “Mercy, I don't rock him at all, Aunt Hannah,” exclaimed Billy. “Nor sing to him?” “Certainly not.” “But you did--before I went away. I remember that you did.”