heartily into the private rejoicings at Pleasance.
"I wish you had seen my father," Arthur afterwards said to Blanche; "he thought it right to see the baby, because he looks upon that mite as a young earl, and a sucking Secretary of State, but he was afraid of touching it, and contented himself with stroking it with the end of his gold pencil case, and assuring Mrs. Smith that it was a remarkably fine child, and that he hoped she would take the greatest care of it, as its life was of immense importance. And to judge by the number and depth of Mrs. Smith's curtesies, he must have enforced this recommendation by lucrative arguments."
"Was baby good?" asked Blanche, with as much earnestness as if it had passed its six hours of life in deep study of the whole duty of man.
"Well, it gave a curious twitch of its chin, not very becoming, but my father took it for a laugh. Blanche, he told me to tell you he thought he should have some good
