“I know it,” he said; “this thought of adopting a child takes me painfully.”
“He looks like me enough to pass for ours,” said the lady, blushing scarlet as the words left her lips. “I mean he has the same colored eyes and hair, and—and—”
“Yes,” thought the gentleman, “they are alike; it would be a pity to disturb the picture.” How pleadingly his eyes look out from under those curls, the same rich brown, with a gleam of gold in it. How came the little fellow so like my wife? But he only said very seriously, “Put him down, Mattie, we will talk it over at home!”
The lady saw that he was in earnest, and attempted to unwind the child’s arms from her neck. But the little fellow cried out,—
“No, no, mammy, mammy!” all in a tremor of affright clinging closer, and raining wild, sweet kisses upon her face. This was a kind of eloquence that neither the gentleman nor lady could withstand. The homely but pathetic cry of “mammy,” ran like a thrill of music through the young woman’s heart. Her eyes swam in a tearful mist; her cheeks flushed with the hidden sweetness of a word never applied to her before. She had no power to force the child away, but drew him closer and closer to her bosom.
“Let me take him!” said the husband, with a troubled smile.
He reached forth his arms. Eddie lifted his head and eyed him with a sidelong glance, while he loosened one arm from the lady’s neck, and clung closer with the other.
“Come, my little shaver, and see what I’ve got for you.”
The boy bent slightly forward, and at length allowed himself to be taken, searching the gentleman’s face earnestly all the time. But when a motion was made as if to place him on the floor, the gentleman found his neck suddenly encircled by those two loving arms, and the little, tearful face was laid confidingly on his shoulder.
“Take me home—take me home,” pleaded the sweet voice.