John gave a gigantic nod, equal to an answer given through a speaking trumpet.
“Girl?” asked the Stranger.
“Bo-o-oy!” roared John.
“Also very young, eh?”
Mrs. Peerybingle instantly spoke. “Two months and three da-ays. Vaccinated just six weeks ago-o! Took very fine-ly! Considered by the doctors a remarkably beautiful chi-ild! Equal to the general run of children at five months o-ld! Takes notice of everything. May seem impossible to you, but true.”
Here the breathless little mother, who had been shrieking these short sentences into the old man’s ear until her face was crimson, held the baby up before him to prove her words, while Tilly Slowboy sprang around in cow-like gambols to amuse the infant, uttering words which sounded like “Ketcher! Ketcher!”
“Hark!” said John. “He’s called for, sure enough. There’s some one at the door. Open it, Tilly.”
Caleb Plummer
Before she could reach it, however, it was opened from the outside, for it was a primitive sort of door with a latch that any one could lift if he chose. In came a little, meager, thoughtful, dingy-faced man.
He seemed to have made himself a great-coat from the burlap covering of some old box; for, when he turned to shut the door, and keep the weather out, one could read upon the back of the garment the letters “G & T” in large black capitals; also the word “GLASS” in smaller capitals.