They entered the room together, they leaned over the cradle, they knelt by its side, and Kingsley, lowering his face to the pretty babe sleeping there, kissed her softly and tenderly.
"She is very sweet, Nansie, like you. I am sure her eyes are the color of yours."
"No, darling, she has your eyes."
"And your heart, Nansie. Happy little one, happy little one! We will make her happy, will we not, dear?"
"Yes, Kingsley."
"But, my dear, pardon me for saying so, I am really and truly hungry. Even a piece of dry bread would be acceptable."
She kept back her tears, and quickly placed bread upon the table, which he ate ravenously at first, smiling at her gratefully the while. Very soon she had prepared some hot tea, which he drank, and begged her to drink a cup with him. His hunger being appeased, he lay back in his chair, his eyes wandering round the room.
"What is our dear little one's name?" he asked; "I have forgotten it."
"No, dear," said Nansie, "you have not forgotten it, because she has not one yet; we call her 'baby,' you know."
"Yes, yes," he said, "'baby,' of course, the best, the sweetest that ever drew breath; but she must have a name, Nansie; she cannot go through life as 'baby.' Say that when she is a happy woman she marries, it would not do for her to be called 'baby' then."