But while Mrs Easy was suffering, Mr Easy was in ecstasies. He laughed at pain, as all philosophers do when it is suffered by other people, and not by themselves.
In due course of time, Mrs Easy presented her husband with a fine boy, whom we present to the public as our hero.
Chapter Two.
In which Mrs Easy, as usual, has her own way.
It was the fourth day after Mrs Easy’s confinement that Mr Easy, who was sitting by her bedside in an easy-chair, commenced as follows: “I have been thinking, my dear Mrs Easy, about the name I shall give this child.”
“Name, Mr Easy! why, what name should you give it but your own?”
“Not so, my dear,” replied Mr Easy; “they call all names proper names, but I think that mine is not. It is the very worst name in the calendar.”
“Why, what’s the matter with it, Mr Easy?”