“I can’t do anything,” he said to Captain Rhines, “nor set myself about anything, till I know whether mother is coming.”
It was about the middle of the afternoon when Charlie saw the white sail of the canoe in Captain Rhines’s cove, and she soon came into view before a light southerly wind. Charlie saw through the glass his mother sitting in the stern, and, jumping into his canoe, went to meet them.
“Why, mother!” said he, “what makes you look so pale? are you sick?”
“No, Charlie; I never was better in my life.”
When they neared the shore Charlie pulled ahead, and landing, stood ready to hug his mother as soon as she should get out of the canoe.
“Don’t hug me hard,” said she, kissing him, “for you might do some damage.”
“O, mother! what is that under your shawl? do let me see. Is it the cloth for my breeches?”
“Look,” said she, opening the folds of her shawl.
“O, a little baby! Whose is it? Where did you get it? What a wee bit of a thing! what little mites of hands! I wish it would wake up and open its eyes. I do love babies so! and how I shall love your baby,—our baby. It will be my brother—won’t it, mother?”
“Yes, Charlie; but let us go up to the house, and let Captain Rhines and his wife see the grandchild.”