"That was her tune, Mary's, the last she sang to Marygold. How did you know?" asked Gilbert when the hymn ended, his voice sinking unconsciously to an awed whisper.
"I did not, but God does not forget."
Slowly and clearly Latimer read the brief service of private baptism, ending with the sentence, "If thou art not already baptized, Julia Poppea, I baptize thee in the Name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost—Amen."
"Is that in the book?" asked Gilbert; "then if it is, there are enough other children named that 'tisn't known about where or when, so that she isn't the only one."
"No, we are none of us the only ones either for sorrow or joy; in that lies the love of God, which is brotherhood;" and seeing the light of the smile upon Stephen Latimer's face, the child laughed and crowed, and succeeded in wriggling from Miss Emmy's arms down to the floor, where the pup was wagging furiously, as though trying to shake hands with everybody at once, having slipped in as Mrs. Pegrim hurried out for the christening cake.
"It is not as light as it should be," she said, bustling back, "but I made it sponge, so's the children could have it (I've fruit cake coming for we-all). It was the last of the limed eggs I used, and though fresh to taste, they do act sort of discouraged when it gets spring o' the year and the responsibility o' hefting sponge cake is laid on them.
"Would you mind, Miss Emmy, seeing as you stepped so far into the family, as to cut it, I mean break it, as a knife spiles sponge cake, while I pour the coffee?"
"Hasn't the pup got any name yet?" asked Hughey, joining the pair on the floor. "Mr. Gilbert, you promised he should have a name and that I might help choose."
"The boys in the office of nights call him Mack, after that little General McClellan, 'cause he's always busy barking and running about, planning great things he never does, so I reckon that'll stick to him."