The little Jan had watched the proceedings of the visitors with great attention. During the poor baby’s fit of coughing, he was so absorbed that the sandy kitten slipped through his arms and made off, with her tail as stiff as a sentry’s musket; and now that the miller took the baby into his arms, Jan became excited, and asked, “What daddy do with un?” “The old-fashioned little piece!” exclaimed the nurse, admiringly. And Mrs. Lake added, “Let un see the little lady, maester.” The miller held out the baby, and the nurse, removing a dainty handkerchief edged with Valenciennes lace from its face, introduced it as “Miss Amabel Adeline Ammaby;” and Mrs. Lake murmured, “What a lovely little thing!” By which, for truth’s sake, it is to be hoped she meant the lace-edged handkerchief. In the exchange of civilities between the two women, the respective children in their charge were admonished to kiss each other,—a feat which was accomplished by Jan’s kissing the baby very tenderly, and with all his usual gravity. As this partly awoke the baby from a doze, its red face began to crease, and pucker, and twist into various contortions, at which Jan gazed with a sort of solemn curiosity in his black eyes. “Stroke the little lady’s cheeks, love,” said Mrs. Lake, irrepressibly proud of the winning ways and quaint grace which certainly did distinguish her foster-child. Jan leaned forward once more, and passed his little hand softly down the baby’s face twice or thrice, as he was wont to stroke the sandy kitten, as it slept with him, saying, “Poor itta pussy!” “It’s not a puss-cat, bless his little heart!” said the matter-of-fact nurse. “It’s little Miss Amabel Adeline Ammaby.” “Say it, love!” said Mrs. Lake, adding, to the nurse, “he can say any thing, mum.” “Miss _Am—abel Ad—e—line Am—ma—by_,” prompted the nurse. “Amabel!” said the little Jan, softly. But, after this feat, he took a fit of childish reticence, and would say no more; whilst, deeply resentful of the liberties Jan had taken, Miss Amabel Adeline Ammaby twisted her features till she looked like a gutta-percha gargoyle, and squalled as only a fretful baby can squall. She was calmed at last, however, and the windmiller took her once more into his arms, and Mrs. Lake carrying Jan, they all climbed up the narrow ladder to the next floor. Heavily ground the huge stones with a hundred and twenty revolutions a minute, making the chamber shake as they went round. They made the nurse giddy. The simplest machinery has a bewildering effect upon an unaccustomed person. So has going up a ladder; which makes you feel much less safe in the place to which it leads you than if you had got there by a proper flight of stairs. So—very often—has finding yourself face to face with the accomplishment of what you have been striving for, if you happen to be weak-minded. Under the combined influences of all these causes, the nurse listened nervously to Master Lake, as he did the honors of the mill.