"Only yesterday, to market, Mrs. Swain said 'My dear Hephzibah'--so she always calls me--'why, you'm not yourself--you'm all a-dreaming! I ax for a brace of fowls,' she says, 'and, merciful goodness,' she says, 'you hand me a pat of butter!' 'Twas true. My mind ran so upon this here child, as we've marked wi' the Sign to-day. I tell you, Sarah Jane, that, cautious as I am in my use of words, I can't speak too well of him. He's a regular right down masterpiece of a child. Look at his little round barrel, if you don't believe me. An' a hand as will grasp hold that tight! An' a clever child, I warn 'e. Did 'e mark the eyes of un when he seed parson's gold watch-chain? He knowed! 'Twas his first sight of gold--yet up his fingers went to i' an' he pulled a very sour face when he had to let go. There's wisdom there--mark me. And hair like a good angel's. True 'tis only the first crop an' he'll moult it; but you can always take a line through the first what the lasting hair will be. Curly, I warrant, an' something darker than yours, but brighter than his father's." "He've got his father's eyes to a miracle," said Sarah Jane. "He'm listening to every word you be saying!" declared Susan. "A precious, darling, li'l, plump, sweet, tibby lamb!" cried Mrs. Weekes in an ecstasy. "Hold off his blanket, Susie. Yes, if he ban't taking it all in. A wonder and a delight, you mark me, mother. You've done very clever indeed, and never have I seen such a perfect perfection of a baby, since my own son Jarratt was born. Just such another he was--a thought more stuggy in the limbs, perhaps, as was natural with such round parents; but noways different else. Would fasten on a bit of bright metal like a dog on a bone." "My little one's got lovelier eyes, if I may say so--lovelier eyes than Jarratt's," said Sarah Jane. "'Tis a matter of opinion. Some likes blue, some brown, some grey. Eyes be same as hosses: you can't have good ones a bad colour. Taking it all round, grey eyes see more than brown ones, and little eyes more than big ones. But long sight or short, us can all see our way to glory. This here infant's marked for goodness. Mind you let him use my spoon so soon as ever he can. 'Tis real silver, Sarah Jane, as the lion on the handle will tell 'e, if you understand such things." "I knowed that well enough the moment I saw it, and so did Tabitha. 'Tis a very beautiful spoon indeed. He's had it in his mouth a'ready, for that matter." "Trust him!--a wonder as he is! There ban't nothing he won't know the use for very soon. That child will be talking sense in twelve months! I know it! I'm never wrong in such matters. A lusty tyrant for 'e; an' a great drinker, I warrant!" "A grand thirsty boy for sartain," admitted the mother. "An' my bosom's always brimming for his dear, li'l, red lips, thank God!" Mrs. Weekes nodded appreciatively. "You've got to think of his dairy for the present. Who be looking after Ruddyford's?"