Laurence frowned; the idea was rather distasteful to him, and for some reason a little embarrassing. “Listen!” he said. “What do I haf to do?” “Oh, just walk along and kind of talk an’ everything.” “Well——” he said uncertainly; then he brightened a little. “I’ll be smokin’ cigars,” he said. “All right, you can.” And having placed Willamilla in the wagon, Daisy grasped the handle, pushing the vehicle before her. Laurence put a twig in his mouth, puffing elaborately; Elsie walked beside Willamilla; and so the procession moved—Hossifer, still in a mood of indecision, following at a varying distance. And Daisy sang her lullaby as they went. This singing of hers had an unfavourable effect upon Laurence. For a few minutes after they started he smoked his twig with a little satisfaction and had a slight enjoyment in the thought that he was the head of a family—but something within him kept objecting to the game; he found that really he did not like it. He bore it better on the second and fourth blocks, for Elsie was the mother then, but he felt a strong repulsion when Daisy assumed that relation. He intensely disliked being the father when she was the mother, and he was reluctant to have anybody see him serving in that capacity. Daisy’s motherhood was aggressive; she sang louder and louder, and even without the singing the procession attracted a great deal of attention from pedestrians. Laurence felt that Daisy’s music was in bad taste, especially as she had not yet pulled up her stocking. She made up the tune, as well as the words, of her lullaby; the tune held beauty for no known ears except her own and these were the words: “Oh, my da-ar-luh-un baby, My-y lit-tull baby! Go to sleep! Go to _slee_-heep! Oh, my dear lit-_tull_ baby! My baby, my dar-luh-un bay-bee, My bay-bee, my bay-_hay_-bee!” As she thus soothed the infant, who naturally slumbered not, with Daisy’s shrill voice so near, some people on the opposite side of the street looked across and laughed; and this caused a blush of mortification to spread over the face of the father. “Listen!” he remonstrated. “You don’t haf to make all that noise.” She paid no attention but went on singing. “Listen!” said Laurence nervously. “Anyways, you don’t haf to open your mouth so wide when you sing, do you? It looks terrable!” She opened it even wider and sang still louder: “My lit-tull baby, my da-ar-_luh_-un _bay_-bee! My _bay_-bee! My bay-_hay_-bee!” “Oh, my!” Laurence said, and he retired to the rear; whereupon Hossifer gave him a look and fell back a little farther. “Listen!” Laurence called to Daisy. “You scared the dog!” Daisy stopped singing and glanced back over her shoulder. “I did not!” she said. “You scared her yourself.” “_Who?_” Laurence advanced to the side of the wagon, staring incredulously. “Who you talkin’ about?”