“Yes'm!” said Jane. “He'd give a little, teeny BARK, mamma--kind of like a puppy, mamma.” “What?” cried Mrs. Baxter. “Yes'm, he did!” Jane asserted. “He did it four or five times. First he'd lean his head way over on his shoulder like this--look, mamma!--an' then he'd lean it way over the other shoulder, an' every time he'd do it he'd bark. 'Berp-werp!' he'd say, mamma, just like that, only not loud at all. He said, 'Berp-werp! BERP-WERP-WERP!' You could tell he meant it for barkin', but it wasn't very good, mamma. What you think he meant, mamma?” “Heaven knows!” murmured the astonished mother. “An' then,” Jane continued, “he quit barkin' all of a sudden, an' didn't lean his head over any more, an' commenced actin' kind of solemn, an' kind of whispered to himself. I think he was kind of pretendin' he was talkin' to Miss Pratt, or at a party, maybe. Anyways, he spoke out loud after while not just exactly LOUD, I mean, but anyway so's 't I could hear what he said. Mamma--he said, 'Oh, my baby-talk lady!' just like that, mamma. Listen, mamma, here's the way he said it: 'Oh, my baby-talk lady!'” Jane's voice, in this impersonation, became sufficiently soft and tremulous to give Mrs. Baxter a fair idea of the tender yearning of the original. “'OH, MY BABY-TALK LADY!'” cooed the terrible Jane. “Mercy!” Mrs. Baxter exclaimed. “Perhaps it's no wonder Mr. Parcher--” She broke off abruptly, then inquired, “What did he do next, Jane?” “Next,” said Jane, “he put the light out, an' I had to--well, I just waited kind of squeeged up against the wall, an' he never saw me. He went on out to the back stairs, an' went down the stairs tiptoe, mamma. You know what I think, mamma? I think he goes out that way an' through the kitchen on account of papa's clo'es.” Mrs. Baxter paused, with her hand upon the key of the shaded electric lamp. “I suppose so,” she said. “I think perhaps--” For a moment or two she wrapped herself in thought. “Perhaps”--she repeated, musingly--“perhaps we'll keep this just a secret between you and me for a little while, Jane, and not say anything to papa about the clothes. I don't think it will hurt them, and I suppose Willie feels they give him a great advantage over the other boys--and papa uses them so very little, especially since he's grown a wee bit stouter. Yes, it will be our secret, Jane. We'll think it over till to-morrow.” “Yes'm.” Mrs. Baxter turned out the light, then came and kissed Jane in the dark. “Good night, dear.” “G' night, mamma.” But as Mrs. Baxter reached the door Jane's voice was heard again. “Mamma?” “Yes?” Mrs. Baxter paused. “Mamma,” Jane said, slowly, “I think--I think Mr. Parcher is a very nice man. Mamma?” “Yes, dear?” “Mamma, what do you s'pose Willie barked at the lookin'-glass for?”