It is somewhat absurd, I grant you, but there is no getting over facts. Sometimes brave soldiers or sailors make the best of fireside folks, when they do settle down.
And Harvey McGregor is not only nursing his young heir, but he is actually nodding at him and talking sweet nonsense to him, while baby crows, and Harvey’s wife looks on delightedly.
So busily are all engaged that they do not hear the hall door bell ring, nor know anything at all about its being rung either, until suddenly a Highland servant enters with two cards on a tray.
Harvey hands baby to his mother in some confusion—I’m not at all sure he did not blush a little; but no sooner has he taken the cards and read them, than he jumps up from his chair as if a hornet had stung him.
“Hurrah!” he cries.
“Dear me, Harvey! what is it?” his wife exclaims.
“Nothing, my dear,” says Harvey; “that is—it is everything, I mean. It is joy in the house of McGregor. Hurrah!”
And away he rushes, leaving his wife and mother to wonder.
They were in the library, the pair of them. They had not even sat down, because they knew Harvey would soon come.
And they were not mistaken.