"What is that?" she asks, stopping short in utter amazement, and staring blankly at the baby, who is blinking his great eyes in a most uncompromising fashion and is evidently deriving much refreshment from his little fat, red thumb.
"A baby," says Guy, gravely.
"A real live baby," says Lilian, "a real small duck," giving the child's plump cheek a soft pinch over Guy's shoulder. "Don't be frightened, Florence; he don't bite; you may give him a kiss in all safety."
"Thanks," says Florence, drawing her skirts closer round her, as though the very idea has soiled her garments. "I don't care about kissing promiscuous babies. Really, Guy, if you only knew how ridiculous you look, you would spare yourself the humiliation of being so seen by your servants."
"Blame Lilian for it all," returns Guy. "I know I shall blush myself to death if I meet any of the women."
"I think Sir Guy never before looked so interesting," says Miss Chesney, who is making frantic play all this time with the baby; but its mood has changed, and now her most energetic efforts are received—not with smiles—but with stolid indifference and unblinking contempt by the young gentleman in arms.
"I cannot say I agree with you," Miss Beauchamp says, with much subdued scorn, "and I do not think it is kind to place any one in a false position."
She lets a little disdainful angry glance fall upon Lilian,—who unfortunately does not profit by it, as she does not see it,—and sweeps up the stairs to her aunt's apartments, while Guy (who is not to be sneered out of his undertaking) stalks on majestically to the kitchen, followed by Lilian, and never pauses until he places the chubby little rogue he carries in its mother's arms,—who eventually turns out to be the laundress.
"I am not a judge," he says to this young woman, who is curtsying profusely and is actually consumed with pride, "but Miss Chesney has declared your son to be the loveliest child in the world, and I always agree with Miss Chesney,—for reasons of my own."
"Oh, thank you, Sir Guy; I'm sure I'm much obliged to you, Miss Chesney," says the laundress, turning the color of a full-blown peony, through excitement.