Lenny was sleeping very quietly in his crib, beside his mother’s bed; although, indeed, as the first beams of the morning sun were now glinting through the crevices of the window-blinds, it was almost time for Master Lenny to wake up for his morning bath and airing.
And now what did the queen of the ball do?
Tearing off her jeweled wreath of spring flowers, and throwing aside her gems, she cast herself down upon her child’s bed and burst into a passion of tears, and wept and sobbed as if her heart would break.
It was not her sobs or tears that awakened little Lenny. They were too silent even in their vehemence to disturb the child’s serene rest. It was probably his hour to wake. He opened his eyes, and, seeing his mother in so much grief and believing from his brief experience that nothing but his own naughtiness ever grieved “Doosa,” he put his arms around her neck, and said;
“Don’t ky, Doosa—don’t ky! ’deed Lenny be dood boy!”
“Oh, Lenny, Lenny! love me, or my heart will break!” she cried, gathering the child to her bosom and pressing him there.
“Lenny do love—don’t ky! ’deed Lenny be dood boy—’deed Lenny will!” said the child, kissing and hugging her fondly.
“My darling child, you are the only comfort I have in this world,” she sobbed, as she squeezed him to her bosom and covered him with kisses.
“Hey-day! There, I knew it! and that is the reason I came in,” said a voice in the open doorway.
Drusilla looked up and saw Anna standing there.