“I don’t know what you are thinking of, Anna Miller, to—to—upset me so!” she cried querelously. “Of course we couldn’t have him here and I an invalid! It would kill me—break my heart.”
As for Anna, she was quite confounded. Absolutely unprepared for the refusal of the precious gift it had cost her so much to proffer, the repetition of that hateful, meaningless phrase irritated her keenly. But for Mr. Langley’s sake, she spoke with measure.
“But Mrs. Langley, I thought you were better—a heap better,” she protested. “Tell me, does your head ache at this very minute?”
Mrs. Langley considered, or tried to do so. “I can’t tell,” she snapped. “I think it must, but I am so wrought up I’m sure I can’t tell. But I know this. As soon as you go, I shall find myself suffering torture, and it’s likely to keep up all night.”
“I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to excite you,” murmured Anna meekly. “But Joe, Junior, wouldn’t excite you, not a bit. And he wouldn’t be any trouble even to a worse invalid than you were when you were at your very sickest. He isn’t at all like other babies. Big Bell would take all the care of him—she knows how to handle ’em and she’s crazy about him already. And Mr. Langley would play with him—he’d love to, too—and then whenever you wanted to see him and hear the little love talk, why all you’d have to do would be to have him brought in—ask Bell for him.”
“And like as not Bell would have an excuse all ready. I know Bell Adams better than you do, Anna Miller! She’d keep him to herself all the time and when I wanted him, she’d say he was having a nap. And he’d like Mr. Langley better than he would me and he wouldn’t come to me from him. And—O dear, O dear, why did you come here with your wild notions stirring me up so that I sha’n’t get a wink of sleep all night!”
Anna looked desperately and forlornly at the big purple roses. A long pause ensued which Mrs. Langley finally broke.
“Anna, I would like to have you bring the baby over here just as often as you can,” she said in a conciliatory way. “Of course it wouldn’t be wise for me to have him in the house all the time in my delicate state of health, as you would know if you were older or had had experience with illness. But I would dearly love to have you bring him over every day besides all Saturday afternoons.”
Slow to anger as the girl was, she wasn’t proof against this. She sprang to her feet.
“Not on your tintype!” she cried hotly. “That baby shall never come to this house again unless he comes to stay—never! never! I’ve got something else to do than tote him way over here every day, and if you want to see him days you’ve got to shelter him nights. Not that the darling has to go a begging for shelter, for I’m sure I don’t want to give him away. But I’ll give you one more chance. Do you want him to keep, or will you never look on his face again?”