George threw down the rabbit and took the baby, swearing inwardly. He dandled the child on his knee.
“What’s up then?—What’s up wi’ thee? Have a ride then—dee-de-dee-de-dee!”
But the baby knew quite well what was the father’s feeling towards him, and he continued to cry.
“Hurry up, Teenie!” said George as the maid rattled the coal on the fire. Emily was walking about hushing her charge, and smiling at me, so that I had a peculiar pleasure in gathering for myself the honey of endearment which she shed on the lips of the baby. George handed over his child to the maid, and said to me with patient sarcasm:
“Will you come in the garden?”
I rose and followed him, across the sunny flagged yard, along the path between the bushes. He lit his pipe and sauntered along as a man on his own estate does, feeling as if he were untrammeled by laws or conventions.
“You know,” he said, “she’s a dam rotten manager.”
I laughed, and remarked how full of plums the trees were.
“Yes!” he replied heedlessly—“you know she ought to have sent the girl out with the kids this afternoon, and have got dressed directly. But no, she must sit gossiping with Emily all the time they were asleep, and then as soon as they wake up she begins to make cake——”
“I suppose she felt she’d enjoy a pleasant chat, all quiet,” I answered.
“But she knew quite well you were coming, and
