"But don't you want to see your son?" Helen asked, presently.
Ronnie leapt up.
"See him? Why, of course I do! Oh, come on!... Helen! What does one say to a very young baby?"
Helen followed him upstairs, laughing.
"That entirely depends upon circumstances. One usually says: 'Did it?' 'Is it then?' or 'Was it?' But I almost think present conditions require a more definite statement of fact. I fancy one would say: 'How do you do, baby? I am your papa!' ... This way, Ronnie, in my own old nurseries. Oh, darling, I am afraid I am going to cry! But you must not mind. They will only be tears of unutterable joy. Think what it will be to me, to see my baby in his father's arms!"
CHAPTER XX
GOOD-NIGHT TO THE INFANT OF PRAGUE
The last hour of Christmas Eve ticked slowly to its close.