The little girl went to her and stood looking down into the cradle, too. Mrs. Scattergood put an arm about her and drew her down closer, looking first into the baby's face and then into the luminous violet eyes of Lottie.
"For the Good Land o' Goshen!" she repeated. "Do you know, 'Rill, the blessed baby's got eyes jest like Lottie? An' I believe his nose is goin' to be like hers, too.
"Fancy! He favors Hopewell's side of the fam'bly a whole lot more than he does ourn. Wal! I allus have said that the Druggses was well-favored."
"There could be nothing more to add to my happiness if my boy should look like his father," her daughter said softly.
"I never hope to live to see the Millennium," remarked Aunt 'Mira as she went back across town with Mr. Day. "I had a great-aunt that was a Millerite and give away all her things an' climbed up on to the house roof expectin' the end of the world an' to be caught up into Glory—only she fell off the roof an' broke her hip an' the world didn't come to an end anyway.
"Howsomever, I consider I've seen what 'most matches the Millennium."
"What's that?" demanded her puzzled spouse.
"Miz' Scattergood a-huggin' little Lottie on the one hand an' cooin' to that baby in the cradle on t'other. Does beat all what fools babies make of us women," and she laughed, though she wiped the tears away.
"Don't you mean angels, 'stead o' fools?" asked Uncle Jason.