“Here’s Baby William, Mrs. Martin,” announced Norah Jones, who was both cook and nursemaid in the household. “I’ve got him nice and clean again, and I hope he stays so!”
“I join with you in that hope, Norah,” laughed Mrs. Martin. “But I’m afraid it will not last very long.”
“Oh, well, sure, he’s a dear little chap; aren’t you?” And Norah gave the youngest member of the Martin family a kiss before she led him over to his mother.
“I’m goin’ to see a nellifunt, I am!” announced William.
“Are you, William?” asked his mother.
“An’ I’m goin’ to feed peanuts to a nellifunt, I am!” went on the little fellow.
“Well, maybe, if Daddy will hold you up,” replied Mrs. Martin. “But you must be very careful, Trouble, dear!”
“I’m not scairt of a nellifunt!” declared Trouble.
This nickname had been given to William because he was so often in trouble of one kind or another. Sometimes it was his fault and sometimes it wasn’t. But “Trouble” he was called, and trouble he was very often in, though he generally managed to get out again. Or, if he didn’t, Janet or Teddy would help him.
“Oh, here comes Daddy! Here comes Daddy!” cried Janet, jumping up and down on the sidewalk in front of the house. “I’m going to meet him!” she added.