Soon the boys came in, ready for breakfast, and inquired for the baby; when told that it was sleeping, they wanted to see it asleep, and stole on tiptoe to the bed, where the wearied little thing lay, and nothing would satisfy them until they were permitted to touch the pale, pinched, tear-stained cheek with their fresh, warm lips.
The breakfast bell rang, and they went down to the dining-room, where awaiting them was a breakfast such as only Aunt Susan could prepare. They took their places at the table, while a negro girl stood behind each, to wait upon them and to drive away flies with long brushes of peacock feathers. The boys were so much excited by the advent of the strange baby that they could scarcely keep quiet long enough to eat.
"I am going to draw it on my wagon," said Oleah.
"I'm going to let it ride my pony," said Abner.
"Don't think too much of the baby yet, for some one may come and claim it," said their mother.
"They shan't have it, shall they, papa?" cried Oleah.
"No, it is our baby now."
"And we are going to keep it, ain't we, Aunt Susan!" he asked the cook, as she entered the dining-room.
"Yes, bress yo' little heart; dat baby am yours," said Aunt Susan.
"It's a Christmas gift, ain't it, Maggie?" he asked the waiter behind him. Oleah was evidently determined to array everyone's opinion against his mother's supposition.