Once, some years since, she was called in haste to nurse Jemima through what her husband's telegram indicated as a "slight indisposition"; and upon hurrying to the sickroom was astounded to find Mrs. Thorpe propped up in bed, ministering very deftly to the needs of an infant son, so like his father that it was rather a shock to see him without eye-glasses.
It took Kate several days to recover her breath.
At last, happening one day to discover Jemima gazing down at her gourmand child with something more than tolerance in her expression, Kate blurted out:
"But I thought you did not believe in babies, Blossom!"
"Believe in them? Why, of course, Mother! Babies are quite indispensable to the scheme of things—but not to me."
"Then—why—?"
"Oh," said Jemima, practically, "it seemed rather a pity that there should be no one to inherit Aunt Jemima's money. And then—well, intelligences such as James' and mine really ought to be perpetuated, I suppose. As you once said—my baby isn't all Kildare!"
She gave her husband a quick, shy smile that was rather demonstrative for Jemima.
He leaned over and took her hand. "Why not tell your mother the truth, my dear?"
She flushed. "That is the truth, of course! Or—well, not perhaps all the truth.... You see, Mother, you were so upset about poor Jacky's baby.... Of course it's not quite the same, she is more like you than I am. But still ... And what you said about the 'spark.' ... So, you see—"