To describe the goings on of the two young ladies with that baby is wholly out of the question. They quarreled for it, chucked it in their arms, examined its toes with critical attention, and conversed with it in barbarous baby language, which was enough, Ralph said, to drive a man distracted. They asked it various questions—were delighted with its replies—called its attention to the chickens—and evidently labored under the impression that it understood. They addressed the baby uniformly in the neuter gender, and requested to know whether it was not their darling. To all which the baby replied with thoughtful stares, only occasionally condescending to laugh. The feet having been examined again—there is much in babies' feet—the party smiled and went away, calling after baby to the last.
"Now, that's all affectation," said Ralph; "you young ladies—"
"You're a barbarian, sir!" replied Fanny, with great candor.
"I know I am."
"I'm glad you do."
"But," continued Ralph, "tell me now, really, do you young girls admire babies?"
"Certainly I do—"
"And I," said Redbud.
"They're the sweetest, dearest things in all the world," continued
Fanny, "and the man who don't like babies—"
"Is a monster, eh?"