Finally the post-office was reached. Oliver Gilbert, who was at his work bench in the back shop, put down a cuckoo clock that he was tinkering with and came forward quite spryly to meet his visitors, the limp, caused in boyhood by the ill setting of a broken hip, being less noticeable than usual.
"We've come to see you first, and then to take a peep at this wonderful lady baby about whom the village is agog. That is, I have; Mr. Esterbrook would probably rather stay here and talk with you about the new soldier, Grant, who has come out of nowhere and is doing such great things.
"By the way, my watch has been losing time, though sister Elizabeth declares that I wind it in the dark and turn the hands backward; at any rate, it will be the better for a visit with you." Then turning to Mr. Esterbrook, who was trying to decide which of the three morning paper she should read first, "Willy, my watch, please; you have it in your pocket."
As Miss Emmy passed through the arbor to the house, she was surprised to hear the halting tap of Gilbert's footsteps behind her. "I do not need to take you from the office," she said, "for you must not forget that Mrs. Pegrim is an old friend of mine."
"'Tisn't that, but I want to know what you think of her."
"Hasn't she any name? I mean, haven't you decided what to call her?"
"I've pretty much made up my mind; I had to, for she's to be baptized this afternoon."
At this moment, Mrs. Pegrim, who had been chafing with impatience ever since she saw Miss Emmy go into the post-office, opened the door. By her side, standing straight and true, even though one hand clung to the woman's apron, was the lady baby.
Very scant was the greeting that Miss Emmy gave Satira Pegrim, for suddenly she picked up the child and, carrying her across the room, stood her upon the table so that their faces were upon a level, all oblivious of the fact that her mantilla had slipped from her shoulders and that the lace sunshade she had dropped had been seized by the pup, who bore it to his usual câche under the stove.
"The darling! how could any one have the heart to desert such an exquisite little creature? Positively, Mr. Gilbert, you must let us have her; I've always thought that I should adopt a young girl some day, twenty years hence, to buy pretty clothes for, after I grow too wrinkled and gray to wear pink and corn color, but I never before realized what a dear a lady baby could be. After all, it will be much nicer to watch her grow up; how surprised sister Elizabeth will be, and as for Mr. Esterbrook, I wonder what he would do if I asked him to carry her home for me."