“Richard, don’t move! The poor little tired thing—do you think you could slip out without moving while I hold up her head—oh, I mean without joggling? Now—oh, mamma’s little tired baby! There, there!—’Sh! Now you hold her head and let me sit down—now put her here in my arms, Richard.”
The transfer was safely made. They faced each other, she with her baby, he standing looking down at them. Their eyes met steadily. The Child’s regular breathing alone stirred the silence of the little white room. Then he stooped to kiss the Child’s face as she stooped, and their kisses seemed to meet. She did not start away, but smiled instead.
“I want her every day, Richard!” she said.
“I want her every day, Mary!”
“Then there is only one way. Last night she prayed to have things changed round—”
“Yes, Polly?”
“We’ll change things round, Dick.”
The Child was smiling in her sleep as if she heard them.
Chapter XI