"The children gets a nuisance," she said, as she came back comforting Eunice, a little girl of two.
"Isn't she growing up a little love?" said Jenny. "Oh, I do think she's pretty. What glorious eyes she's got."
"They're like her father's, people say; but young Norman, he's the walking life-like of you, Jenny."
"Where is the rogue?" his aunt inquired.
"Where's Norman, Eunice?"
"Out in the garding, digging gwaves," said Eunice in a fat voice.
Jenny had a sudden longing to have a child of her own and live in a little house quite close to London.
"Why, I don't believe you've ever seen Baby," said Edie.
"Of course I have, but not for some months."
They went upstairs to look at Baby, who was lying asleep in his cot. Jenny felt oppressed by the smallness of the bedroom and the many enlargements of Bert's likeness in youth which dwarfed every other ornament. They recurred everywhere in extravagantly gilt frames; and the original photograph was on the chest of drawers opposite one of Edie wearing a fringe and balloon sleeves.