He had the sense to put him down and let him walk into his new home, and so, hand in hand, the big uncle and the little nephew presented themselves before Jane.
She looked at the pair for a moment in silence, and then burst into a loud, ironical laugh.
"I always knew you were a cheat, Jim Adams! You talked enough about your sister's boy and you've brought a baby in petticoats."
"I'm not a baby—I'm going in four," said Harry gravely, "that's a baby in there," pointing to the cradle. He crossed the room and looked curiously down at the baby, and the baby, pleased with the kind little face, laughed and threw out its arms.
"Can't I have him out to play with? He likes me," cried Harry, "look, Uncle Jim, he's pulling my finger."
Jim lifted out his baby and sat down, and Harry stood beside him, lost in admiration.
"Well, this is a nice set-out," said Jane crossly, as she looked at the happy little trio, "the first thing you do, Jim Adams, is to get that boy some breeches. I'm not going to wash a lot of petticoats." She stooped and lifted Harry's frock—the little black frock that Nellie had prepared weeks ago, ready for this very time, knowing that there would be no one to buy mourning for her child.
Jane examined the petticoats, and her face relaxed a little.
"Humph!" she said, "they're not such bad petticoats! They'll do for baby finely. You can sell the frock, if you like, Jim Adams, that's no good to me, and it will help towards the breeches."
"Indeed I won't," answered Jim fiercely, "if I part with the frock, I'll give it away. Who made your pretty frock, Harry, boy?"