The very way he rounded his eyes and stuck his fingers in her mouth to be bitten, and crowed ‘bab-bab,’ showed how perfectly he understood and approved.

[p 88]
]But presently he began to nod like a little heavy-headed rose, and she nestled him up close to her breast and sang softly, happily below her breath.

Drip, drip on the roof fell the rain; splash, splash in the path-puddles where the blown roses were drowning; tap tap, at the misty window panes.

There was a kink somewhere in the rocking-chair, it made a not unmusical little sound at each backward swing, marking time to Dot’s low singing. Baby could not have slept properly without that gentle jerk between the rise and fall.

The logs fell asunder.

All Dot’s enchanted castles were building in the red glow, now they rose up gloriously with the blaze, and the gladness in her eyes deepened.

‘Bab-a-bab,’ murmured baby sleepily, a gleam of blue just peeping through the long lashes to discover the noise. But the soft singing bore him off again, and the rock, rock, rock of the chair.

[p 89]
]

‘Sweet one hush, little baby sleep,

Rock-a-by soft on my breast,