"Oh, yes." The nurse smiled and turned down the blanket, and the baby opened his eyes.
Hanny felt that in some mysterious manner he knew she loved him. Her lips touched the soft little cheek, the tiny hands.
"He's very good now," said the nurse; "but he can cry tremendously. He has strong lungs."
Stephen took them back and then went down to Father Beekman's. There was so much to do, the little girl and the big girl were both busy enough, helping mother. The boys and her father had gone out, but they had all heard the wonderful tidings.
Hanny ran back and forth waiting on Martha and carrying dishes to the table, so there would be no flurry at the last.
"Hello, Aunt Hanny!" laughed Jim, bouncing in with the reddest of cheeks. "You'll have to grow fast now to keep up with your dignity. Well, is he Beekman Dutch or Underhill English?"
"He's just lovely. His eyes are blue as the sky."
"Hurrah for Steve! Well, that was a Christmas!"
Her father was coming with the two cousins, and she ran up-stairs to wish them Merry Christmas and tell her father what she thought of the baby. The baby and the Christmas sermon and the rheumatism and cold weather seemed to get jumbled all together, and for a little while everybody talked. Then John and Joe made their appearance, and Martha rang the bell, though the savory odors announced that all was ready.
They had a very delightful dinner. Mrs. Underhill had a pretty new consequence about her, and was not a bit teased by being called grandmother. Dolly's advent into the family had been a source of delight, for she fraternized so cordially with every member. And of late she and Mother Underhill had been tenderly intimate, for Mrs. Beekman was kept much at home by her husband's failing health.