She gently put little Lenny aside for a moment, where the child, still awed into silence, stood quietly.
She stooped and fell upon her Alick’s neck and clasped him to her; she wept over him in ecstasy; she kissed him again and again, sobbing words of the fondest endearment—sacred words not to be written here.
Lenny looked on in wonder and awe for some time; but at last his impatience overcame every other emotion, and he sang out:
“Me, too! Me, too! Me, too! ’Top it, Doosa! Tate Lenny up!”
Alick, with a face radiant with joy, once more snatched up the child, and kissed him rapturously, and put him in his mother’s arms, saying:
“Tell him who I am, darling wife! Tell him who I am!”
“Does he not know?” inquired Drusilla, who was covering her child with caresses.
“No. I never felt that I had any right to tell him.”
“Lenny, love, do you know who that gentleman is?” she asked, looking fondly at the child and then at the father.
“Ess I do! he bring Lenny home to Doosa,” answered the boy.