"But how are you?" he asked, anxiously; for a man does not at once forget his wife in his offspring; and Carter had a stain of remorse on his soul which he needed to wash away with rivers of tenderness.
"Oh, I am perfectly well," she answered. "Isn't he pretty?"
At that moment the child sneezed; the air of this world was too pungent.
"Oh, take him!" she exclaimed, looking for the nurse. "He is going to die."
The black woman lifted the boy and handed him to the father.
"Don't drop him," said Lillie. "Are you sure you can hold him? I wouldn't dare to take him."
As if she could have taken him! In her eagerness she forgot that she was sick, and talked as if she were in her full strength. Her eyes followed the infant so uneasily about the room that Elderkin motioned Carter to replace him on the bed.
"Now he won't fall," she said, cheerfully.—"It was only a sneeze," she added presently, with a little laugh which was like a gurgle, a purr of happiness. "I thought something was the matter with him."—Shortly afterward she asked, "How soon will he talk?"
"I am afraid not for two or three weeks, unless the weather is favorable," replied Elderkin, with a chuckle which under the circumstances was almost blasphemous.
"How strange that he can't talk!" she replied, without noticing the old gentleman's joke. "He looks so intelligent!"