Part 4 (1/2)

They made haste to cut the twine, and behold, a beautiful rug! ”Isn't this like that dear, extravagant Jack?” she cried. ”Isn't it pretty, Wink? He thought we'd need cheering up!”

Chairs and tables must be pushed aside at once and the rug put in place.

Frances had just sat down in the middle of it with great satisfaction, when through the half-open door walked the fattest, rosiest baby imaginable, wearing a very clean blue check ap.r.o.n and an affable smile.

”Why, where did you come from?” they both exclaimed.

This was evidently something he did not care to reveal, for, although he continued to smile and gaze about him with interest, he made no reply.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”'What is your name, baby?'”]

”What is your name, baby?” Frances asked, holding out her hands.

”Dennyleebon,”--or so it sounded.

”Do you suppose that is intended for English?” said Mrs. Morrison.

”I don't know. Make him say something else. Baby, can you talk?”

”Tock,” repeated the infant, pointing to the mantel.

”Yes,” cried Frances, delighted, ”it is a clock. You see, mother, he thought I said clock. That is English.”

”You don't mean it! But let him alone, Wink, and see what he will do.”

The visitor showed plainly that he had a mind of his own. He did not wish to be petted and kissed, but preferred to walk around the room on a tour of investigation. Presently he paused before a table and remarked earnestly, ”Book.”

”Can't you find a picture-book for him?” asked Mrs. Morrison.

There happened to be an old animal book in the box they were unpacking, and, getting it out, Frances and the baby sat together on the new rug and turned the leaves, the latter never failing to say, ”ion,” ”effunt,”

”tiger,” as the case might be, with unvarying correctness and great enthusiasm.

In the midst of this there came a modest little tap at the door, and when Mrs. Morrison opened it, there stood a girl of about Frances' age.

Her red calico dress was very fresh, her cheeks as rosy as the infant's, and her flaxen hair was drawn tightly back and braided in a long tail.

”Is the baby here?” she asked.

”No, no,” came in decided tones from the visitor.

This made them all laugh, even the baby himself seeming to think it a good joke.

”Can't he stay for a while? He is good, and we like to have him,” said Mrs. Morrison.

The girl hesitated; plainly the baby had no thought of leaving. ”The lady who used to have these rooms made a pet of him, and he is always running off up here,” she explained.

”I am glad he came, for my daughter and I were feeling lonely. Won't you come in and sit down? Do you live in the house?”

The newcomer accepted Mrs. Morrison's invitation rather shyly, looking as if she had a mind to carry the baby off by main force. Her name, she said, was Emma Bond, and she and her two-year-old brother lived in the back part of the house with their mother, who took care of Mr. Clark's rooms. The baby's name was Robert Lee, but he was commonly known as the General, a nickname given him by the Spectacle Man, and evidently well bestowed.