"Why! Can't you see it? He is wonderfully like him. He has blue eyes, too. Don't you see the resemblance?"
"I think he has more chins than your father. He has double chins all the way down to his toes," said Colburne, pointing to the collops on the little leg.
"You mustn't laugh at him," she answered. "I suppose you have seen him enough. Men seldom take a longer look than that at a baby."
"Yes. I don't want to wake him up. I don't want the responsibility of it. I wouldn't assume the responsibilities of an ant. I haven't the energy for it."
They returned to the little parlor. The Doctor came in, and immediately forced the invalid to lie on a sofa, propping him up with pillows and proposing to cover him with an Affghan.
"No," said Colburne. "I beg pardon for my obstinacy, but I suffer with heat all the time."
"It is the fever," said the Doctor. "Remittent malarious fever. It is no joke when it dates from Brashear City."
"It is not being used to a house," answered Colburne, stubborn in faith in his own health. "It is wearing a vest and a broadcloth coat. I really am not strong enough to bear the hardships of civilization."
"We shall see," said the Doctor gravely. "The Indians die of civilization. So does many a returned soldier. You will have to be careful of yourself for a long time to come."
"I am," said Colburne. "I sleep with windows open."