"He's a fine fellow!" said the new father. "We wanted to surprise you," looking at Hanny and smiling. "We made Joe promise not to tell you. And now you are all aunts and uncles, and we have a grandmother of our very own."
"Oh!" This time Hanny laughed softly. There were no words expressive enough.
"And now you will have to knit him some little boots, and save your money to buy him Christmas gifts. And what's that new work—crochet him a cap. Dear me! how hard you will have to work."
"There were such lovely little boots at Epiphany Fair. If I only had known! But I'm quite sure I can learn to make them;" her eyes lighting with anticipation. "Oh, when will he be big enough to hold?"
"In a month or so. You will have to come up on Saturdays and take care of him."
"Can I? That will be just splendid."
He was silent. He could not tease the little girl in the sacredness of her new, all-pervading love.
The nurse entered. She had a soft white kerchief pinned about her shoulders, and side puffs of hair done over little combs. She nodded to Margaret and said "the baby was a very fine child, and that Mrs. Underhill was sleeping restfully. They had been so glad to have Mr. Underhill's mother." Then she patted the blanket over the baby, and said "it had been worked for his great, great grandmother, and they put it over every Beekman baby for good luck."
Margaret declared they must return. Mother was tired, and the Archers were coming up to dinner after church.
"Could I kiss it just once?" asked Hanny timidly.