"We'll wait in patience, I suppose. I'll lay this young man down. My arms must be a gettin' old because I feel him."
She laid the baby on the couch and he protested with legs and arms and voice against being again laid upon his back. Drusilla took him up and he was happy again.
"Well," laughed Drusilla, "I guess I've found somethin' to do with my hands."
The baby stared at Drusilla for a few moments; then his wails commenced again. Drusilla trotted him, but that did not stop his cries.
"Perhaps he is hungry, Miss Doane," Jeanne suggested.
"Give me that bottle."
Drusilla felt the bottle and found it cold.
"It's cold, James. Go warm some milk and scald the bottle."
James went away, his head held high, disapproval expressed in every line of his back. Within a few moments a motor was heard at the door and Daphne's young voice was calling:
"Can we come in, Miss Doane? Where is the baby?"