"Am I sure—certainly I am; and a sweet, dear, blessed, chubby little thing it is; one roll of fat and good nature; and the very picture of you; but let that alone, 'tis no concern of ours, just now; but I hope that you are suited at last."
Mr. Bangs could not speak; but he untied his cravat, and wiped the perspiration from his face, while his wife stood looking at him with amazement.
"Why, Christopher—Kit, what ails you?" said she, really frightened at this extraordinary display of animation—"is it possible that a boy sat so close to your heart? and have you borne your thirteen disappointments so long, and so well? I really give you credit for not showing a great deal of ugly temper; and now I trust that this dear, little, chubby fellow will make amends."
"It will, Molly, it will: and I heartily forgive you for giving me thirteen girls. How soon will little Christopher walk? Hang it all; but he shall have a hobby-horse as soon as he can call me grandpapa. And you must dress him in his best when I walk out with him. I'll take him to our club, some warm evening. I'll not let a servant touch him, to get his back broke, but will carry him myself."
"Heaven help him," thought his wife, as she slowly walked up stairs, "he is growing foolish."
But Mr. Bangs! He went to the glass and said, "Grandpa, grandpa," as if a child was calling him—then he whistled and laughed. "Who is that," said he, as one of his daughters entered the room. "Is that you, Fillippi?" "No, father, it is Georgiana; how glad you must be, father, to hear that dear Fanny is so well."
"Yes, child, yes. Does the little fellow grow? But don't call him Kit; it is too feminine. Call him out, boldly, Christopher;" and the enraptured, fool-
