A flash of amusement, mingled with the love-light in the soft eyes that met those of the boy. He turned quickly. A scarcely-discernible embarrassment of manner, and a quick flush in the bright young face, were all that I had time to note, before he was at my side with a cordial greeting and a playful welcome to "Mother's Land of Promise."
"Land of Nod, say rather," replied the presiding genius of the scene, pointing to the quiescent form of little Bessie, who—her curly head pillowed on her chubby arm—was just losing all consciousness of the world, upon the rug at her mother's feet.
"George, what an armful!" said the youth, in a sort of half undertone, as he tenderly lifted the little lay figure, and bore it to a crib. "Don't get up, mother, I can cover her nicely. I say, mammy [an arch glance over his shoulder towards the ancient matron of the sewing-basket], how heavy bread and milk is, though, eh!"
"Speaking of bread and milk, here comes lunch," continued my hero for the nonce, rubbing his hands energetically, and only desisting to give a table the dextrous twirl that would bring it near his mother, and assist the labors of the servant who had entered with a tray.
"Will, you immense fellow, take yourself out of the way! Colonel, permit me to give your sedan-chair just the slightest impulse forward, and so save you the trouble of moving. My adorable mother, allow me the honor of being your Ganymede. Here we are, all right! Now, let's see what there is—ham, baked apples, cold roast beef, hot cocoa—not so bad, 'pon my word. Colonel, I hope this crispy morning has given you some appetite, after your hard cold—allow me"—
"Mammy fust," here interposed little Will, authoritatively, "
'cause she older dan us!" and, carefully holding the heaped-up plate his mother placed in both hands, he deliberately adventured an overland journey to the distant object of his affectionate solicitude.
At this juncture, it was discovered that the servant-man who brought up the tray, had forgotten the sugar, and a young nursery-maid was dispatched for it. Upon her return she contrived, by some awkwardness in closing the door, to spill the whole result of her mission to the pantry upon the floor. Her arms dropped by her sides, as if suddenly paralyzed, and I noticed a remarkable variety in the shade of her broad Irish physiognomy.
"There is no great harm done, Biddy," said my hostess, immediately, in a peculiarly quiet, gentle voice, "just step down to John for another bowlful. While poor Biddy is collecting her scattered senses on the stairs, my son, will you kindly assist Willie in picking up the most noticeable lumps?—put them in this saucer, my dear. She is just learning, you know and—she would not cross that Rubicon as bravely as the classic hero you were reading of last night."
"While we are so literary, mother—what is it about the dolphin? If I remember rightly Bid was a pretty good exemplification"——