"It's too fat. It eats too much!"
To my amazement the creature was transformed into a vixen.
"It--it! Too fat! You call my boy 'it' and say he's too fat! Don't you
dare! What does a creature like you know of babies? Why, you wouldn't
even know----"
But the thing was too painful. Let her angry words be forgotten.
Suffice to say, she permitted herself to cry out things that might
have given grave offence to one less certain of himself than I. Rather
chilled I admit I was by her frenzied outburst. I was shrewd enough to
see instantly that anything in the nature of a criticism of her
offspring must be led up to, rather; perhaps couched in less direct
phrases than I had chosen. Fearful I was that she would burst into
another torrent of rage, but to my amazement she all at once smiled.
"What a fool I am!" she exclaimed. "Kidding me, were you? Trying to
make me mad about the baby. Well, I'll give you good. You did it. Yes,
sir, I never would have thought you had a kidding streak in you--old
glum-face!"
"Little you know me," I retorted, and quickly withdrew, for I was then
more embarrassed than ever, and, besides, there were other and graver
matters forward to depress and occupy me.
In my fitful sleep of the night before I had dreamed vividly that I
saw the Honourable George being dragged shackled to the altar.
Pages:
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414