There was a stir amongst the blankets in the cradle just then, and presently a little cry. The baby was awake. Very soon she was in Mrs Leigh’s arms, who examined the tiny face with great interest, while the mother stood by, silent, but eager for the first expression of admiration.
“What a beautifully fair child!” exclaimed Mrs Leigh.
“Everyone says that as sees her,” said Mrs White with quiet triumph. “She features my mother’s family—they all had such wonderful white skins. But,” anxiously, “you don’t think she looks weakly, do you, ma’am?”
“Oh, no,” answered Mrs Leigh in rather a doubtful tone. She stood up and weighed the child in her arms, moving nearer the window. “She’s a little thing, but I dare say she’s not the less strong for that.”
“It makes me naturally a bit fearsome over her,” said Mrs White; “for, as you know, ma’am, I’ve buried three children since we’ve bin here. Ne’er a one of ’em all left me. It seems when I look at this little un as how I must keep her. I don’t seem as if I could let her go too.”
“Oh, she’ll grow up and be a comfort to you, I don’t doubt,” said Mrs Leigh cheerfully. “Fair-complexioned children are very often wonderfully healthy and strong. But really,” she continued, looking closely at the baby’s face, “I never saw such a skin in my life. Why, she’s as white as milk, or snow, or a lily, or—” She paused for a comparison, and suddenly added, as her eye fell on the flowers, “or that bunch of lilac.”
“You’re right, ma’am,” agreed Mrs White with a smile of intense gratification.
“And if I were you,” continued Mrs Leigh, her good-natured face beaming all over with a happy idea, “I should call her ‘Lilac’. That would be a beautiful name for her. Lilac White. Nothing could be better; it seems made for her.”
Mrs White’s expression changed to one of grave doubt.
“It do seem as how it would fit her,” she said; “but that’s not a Christian name, is it, ma’am?”