“What, together?”
“Ay. And why not? Sure, ’tis the best in many ways.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Faix! an’ with raison. If I drink porter I’m full before I’m drunk, ye see; if I drink whisky, I’m drunk before I’m full, and both together comes about right.”
“Michael,” cried his wife, “’tis you as ought to be dead ashamed, talking in such a coarse, loose way before the ladies! Ye has them all upset, so ye has.” And, to make a diversion, she darted into the room and returned with (by way of a treat for the ladies) a baby in her arms. It had weak, blinking, blue eyes, was wrapped in an old shawl, and was apparently about a month old. However, it created quite the sensation its mother had anticipated.
“Oh, Lord,” cried Mr. West, “a baby! I hate babies, though I like small children—especially little boys! Take it away before it starts screaming.”
“Oh, show it to me! Let me have it!” came simultaneously from several quarters; but in each case the baby received its new friend with a yell, and had to be promptly returned to its apologetic parent. Several had tried their hand upon it; Miss Pam, Mrs. Leach, Miss Lumley, and Lady Rachel had been repulsed in turn.
“Now, Maddie, let us see what way you would manage it, or if you know which end is uppermost!” said Lady Rachel, taking the child from its mother, and laying it in Madeline’s arms.
After a storm a calm! The irritable infant was actually quiet at last, and glared at his new nurse in silence; and whilst Madeline hushed it and rocked it, and talked to it in a most approved fashion, the delighted mother and granny looked on with grateful surprise. And then the old lady made some loud remark in Irish, and pointed her pipe at Madeline.
“What does she say? Oh, do tell us?” cried Miss Pamela, excitedly. “Do—do, please!”