Lester drew himself up in the doorway. "Mrs. Hilliard," he said firmly, and the woman turned, giving him a square, hard look. "Mrs. Hilliard, please put your prying mind at rest. If you want to give the neighborhood a report on our baby, then all right!" His face was fast becoming a dangerous red. "Just step this way!"
"Lester!" Ginny cried.
But Lester was beyond caution. "We call the baby A.P.," he said, "but you may address him as Mr. Holmes." Mrs. Hilliard cast him a curious glance. "Come right along, Mrs. Hilliard!"
"Well ..." Mrs. Hilliard said, then selfrighteously started after him down the hall.
As they entered, A.P. was busy reading, the book propped up against the side of his crib. His bottle hung rakishly from the corner of his mouth, balanced across his shoulder. At the sight of the approaching trio, he looked around and frowned. Mrs. Hilliard stopped short as the baby pointed a chubby finger in her direction.
"Who," A.P. asked in measured tones, "is that? Or should I say 'what is that?'"
Mrs. Hilliard made a small wheezing sound and looked around uncertainly at Ginny.
"This is our neighbor," Lester said recklessly. "Mrs. Hilliard."
"Well, why come dragging her in here?" A.P. asked. "Surely it can't be milking time already." He regarded Mrs. Hilliard more closely. "She's certainly nothing to inflict on a mere infant."