"Then I am glad!" said Vesty of the Basins, clasping her hands. I looked at her; if he was happy she was utterly glad. "He will be a great man," she said: "he is already famous, that _is_ to be great." "As Christ went down the Lonesome Road," sang Uncle Benny, who was voluntary housekeeper at Vesty's during some hours of the day, while the father and boys were away at the fishing: "As Christ went down the Lonesome Road-- Sail away to Galilee. He left the Crown and He took the Cross! Sail away to Galilee. Sail away to Galilee-- Oh, He left the Crown and He took the Cross-- Sail away to Galilee!" He came forward to take the baby, who had awakened before he began to sing. The Basin matrons ran in very much, but there was no "Vesty" to enter and take the continued care, in this case, until the young mother should be strong again. "You can sweep up, major," said Uncle Benny, cheerfully pointing me to the broom. "Sail away to Galilee, Sail away to Galilee--" he sang, walking so proudly with the infant that his gait was most innocently jaunty and affected. Vesty laughed and shook her head at me, but I had the broom and was hobbling about at work with it, pleased to find that Uncle Benny had rather neglected this humble office for the more important one of minding the baby. He next set me to washing the dishes and turning the churn; he would not trust me with the child, and wisely. That he held in his own strong arms, but he sat down beside me after my work was done and gently commiserated me. "Nature has not done so much for you as she has for some, you know," he said. "No, indeed," I murmured. At that he took off his blue necktie and held it toward me, with a tear of pity in his eye. I took it and tied it simply around my neck above the collar. "It improves you--some," he said, but his look only too plainly indicated that there was still much to be desired. We were sitting thus on the doorstep, Uncle Benny with the baby, and I peeling the potatoes, with his blue ribbon tied around my neck, when I heard a half-familiar little scream and laugh, and, looking up, beheld a fashionable company. "We hailed Gurdon, off Reef Island, and he said we might come and see the son and heir--hurrah!" Notely spoke in his gay voice, but the look he gave Vesty's child--Vesty's sweet self in that form--leaped with a passionate pain. There was a small, brilliant-looking woman beside him, with eye-glasses. "O you divine infant!" she exclaimed, regarding the child. "Where is the Madonna?" Now, I was purposely gathering up the potato peelings very slowly from the doorway, so that the "Madonna" might have time to take down a certain blue sack from the bedpost at hand, and put it on, and give those little finger-touches to the hair that women covet; so I stumbled over the peelings and got mixed up with them, until even Uncle Benny felt called upon to apologize for me.