“TO be like a mouse,” said Pete, and he whipped off his long sea-boots and crept on tiptoe into the room. There she lay with the morning light on her, and a face as white as the quilt that she was plucking with her long fingers. “Thank God for a living mother and a living child,” said Pete, in a broken gurgle, and then he drew down the bedclothes a very little, and there, too, was the child on the pillow of her other arm. Then do what he would to be quiet, he could not help but make a shout. “He's there! Yes, he is! He is, though! Joy! Joy!” The women were down on him like a flock of geese. “Out of this, sir, if you can't behave better!' “Excuse me, ladies,” said Pete humbly, “I'm not in the habit of babies. A bit excited, you see, Mistress Nancy, ma'am. Couldn't help putting a bull of a roar out, not being used of the like.” Then, turning back to the bed, “Aw, Kitty, the beauty it is, though! And the big! As big as my fist already. And the fat! It's as fat as a bluebottle. And the straight! Well, not so _very_ straight, neither, but the complexion at him now! Give him to me, Kitty I give him to me, the young rascal. Let me have a hould of him, anyway.” “_Him_, indeed! Listen to the man,” said Nancy. “It's a girl, Pete,” said Grannie, lifting the child out of the bed. “A girl, is it?” said Pete doubtfully. “Well,” he said, with a wag of the head, “thank God for a girl.” Then, with another and more resolute wag, “Yes, thank God for a living mother and a living child, if it is a girl,” and he stretched out his arms to take the baby. “Aisy, now, Pete--aisy,” said Grannie, holding it out to him. “Is it aisy broke they are, Grannie?” said Pete. A good spirit looked out of his great boyish face. “Come to your ould daddie, you lil sandpiper. Gough bless me, Kitty, the weight of him, though! This child's a quarter of a hundred if he's an ounce. He is, I'll go bail he is. Look at him! Guy heng, Grannie, did ye ever see the like, now! It's absolute perfection. Kitty, I couldn't have had a better one if I'd chiced it. Where's that Tom Hommy now? The bleating little billygoat, he was bragging outrageous about his new baby--saying he wouldn't part with it for two of the best cows in his cow-house. This'll floor him, I'm thinking. What's that you're saying, Mistress Nancy, ma'am? No good for nothing, am I? You were right, Grannie. 'It'll be all joy soon,' you were saying, and haven't we the child to show for it? I put on my stocking inside out on Monday, ma'am. 'I'm in luck,' says I, and so I was. Look at that, now! He's shaking his lil fist at his father. He is, though. This child knows me. Aw, you're clever, Nancy, but--no nonsense at all, Mistress Nancy, ma'am. Nothing will persuade me but this child knows me.” “Do you hear the man?” said Nancy. “_He_ and _he_, and _he_ and _he!_ It's a girl, I'm telling you; a girl--a girl--a girl.” “Well, well, a girl, then--a girl we'll make it,” said Pete, with determined resignation.