"I suppose he notices everything, doesn't he?"
"No-o, I can't say that he does. He likes things that make a noise. He doesn't care much for looks. If you hold a rattle right up before his eyes, he won't pay any attention to it. But, if you shake it, he smiles and coos and reaches out for it. Oh, he is a regular boy for noise!"
As Flower said this upon a moment of comparative silence, Carolina noticed that Aunt Angie grew rather pale and said:
"I haven't seen your baby for several months, Flower. May I come to see him to-morrow?"
"Oh, I should be so glad if you would, Mrs.--"
"Call me mother, child," said the older woman, looking compassionately at her daughter-in-law.
Flower flushed as delicately as a wild rose, and looked at Carolina, as if wondering if she had noticed this sudden access of cordiality. But to Carolina, a stranger, it seemed perfectly natural, and she rather hurriedly resumed her conversation with Flower, because she had the uneasy consciousness that Miss Sue and Aunt Angie, on the other side of the room, were talking about her. Fragments of their conversation floated over to her in the pauses of her talk with Flower.
"She thinks nothing of sending off ten or a dozen telegrams a day--"
"--she'll wear herself out--"
"--it can't last long. Moultrie says she shows a wonderful head for--"