What, my dear?"

"There's a ladder, dear, against the pear-tree,
close by the nursery window, which is
open. I thought perhaps he'd slipped up
just to see—"

"Open, John? The window open?" And
off flew Cousin Cis, like a flash of lightning.

Instead of the pleasant social repast to
which I had been looking forward, I was
set down in solitary state to my dinner, while
my excellent friend, who had dined with his
baby at one, sat and gazed at me—a thing I
hate. I was dreadfully hungry; but I never
ate so little, or that little at such imminent
risk of choking. The meal despatched, I
suspected, from the increasing indifference
to noise in the house, that the baby had
awakened. Benjamin's face, as he came and
went in attendance on me, grew more and
more important. At last, he re-entered the
room with tenfold dignity, looked full at me
as if he said: "Now, sir, collect yourself—
prepare"—opened the door, and admitted the
babine procession.

First, came nurse, walking backwards,
partly to watch over the safety of the
interesting charge, partly to enjoy the effect
of the pageant. Then mamma, who would
not on this occasion delegate her right, bearing
the baby itself—excessively got up,
and looking like a heavy roll-pudding,
insufficiently boiled, and garnished with lace.
It had a vicious little eye, like a weasel's,
and a goblin aspect that made me feel
uncomfortable.

The very ugliest babies are usually
tolerated by adoring relatives; but this little
contrivance was positively too bad. It did
not fulfil the common conditions of humanity.
One hand was stuck outside the lace in a
theatrical manner, which convinced me it was
not chance. Babies' hands are said to be
exquisitely beautiful; and, certainly, if to be
pink, and bent, and wrinkly, is sufficient to
constitute loveliness, baby's hands were all
that could be desired.

To return to the procession: the nursemaid,
carrying a very unnecessary candle, followed
mamma; and Benjamin, instead of quitting
the room, closed up the train; his eyes still
fastened on mine, watching the effect of the
scene.

I'm a good-natured man enough. I could
not bear to disappoint so many people at
once. So I nerved myself to the utmost, and
I may say, without vanity, that the histrionic
powers I evinced on this occasion would have
startled a Macready, and driven Mr. Charles
Kean into obscurity and a knighthood.

I nourished a fervent hope that baby was
either too sleepy or too sulky to go through
any tricks to-night. Alas, not so. The little
vicious eyes winked and gleamed. The
creature opened an orifice in its face where
the mouth is usually situated, and aped a
human yawn with frightful fidelity.

"Isn't that pretty?" said my cousin, her
kind eyes beaming with delight, as the little
round orifice closed up again, and a bubble
appeared.

I expressed my enthusiasm.

"Now, dear, say ga-ga."

A savage squall was the sole reply.

"There, there—he shan't!" cried the
terrified mother. "But perhaps he'll walk. O,
cousin, he walks so sweetly—you must just
see."

Nurse demurred. It was enough, for one
night, that the incomparable infant had
displayed his beauty in repose. To-morrow,
Tiddlepops would do anything he was asked,
and surprise us all. Wouldn't he?

Squall went the horrible Tiddlepops, and
was thereupon conveyed to bed.

Now, at last, I hoped we should have a
pleasant hour. I had much to say and to
hear, and was quite impatient for the door to
close on the retreating baby. But it didn't
close. The door was left ajar. Nurse had gone
down to her supper; and, although a trusty
nursemaid kept guard over the infant treasure,
it was clear that the attention of both
parents was too much distracted to admit of
any rational conversation.

At the slightest sound, mamma's voice
paused, or sank to a listening pitch; and
once, when a mouse squeaked behind the
wainscoat, she fairly started from her seat,
as if prepared to rush up-stairs.

Nurse's supper appearing to be a prolonged
one, and I being fairly tired out, withdrew to
my chamber, really feeling that I was acting
most considerately to my good friends in
leaving them at liberty to repair on tiptoe
to baby's bedside, and refresh themselves
with one more look before retiring to their
own well-deserved repose.

My host—but not my hostess—appeared
at the breakfast-table, in the morning.

"Poor Cis has had a dreadful night," said
Properjohn, with a wearied sigh. I expressed
both sorrow and surprise, for I had never
seen her looking better.

"O, she's all right," said Properjohn. "It's
only the bother. She was up nineteen times
with him."

"What's the matter?"

"Flushed, you know. Wakes, and turns
over. You understand. Keeps opening and
shutting his little hand. I don't know what
to make of it. We gave him paregoric every
thirty-five minutes. Several times in the night the
child looked as if he was going—"

"Going?"

"—to cry. Cis is breakfasting in bed,
regularly done. But she will be down in an
hour or so."

Eventually she appeared. And baby, too.

"He has been talking so pretty all the
morning. Hasn't he, nurse?" said my cousin,
exultingly.

Nurse replied, in substance, that his
remarks had indeed been both numerous and
profound.