The young fellow stepped back and surveyed his handiwork with jaunty satisfaction.
"I made that thing just as a bird builds its nest—by paternal instinct. It's a little previous, and I'd just as soon you wouldn't mention it; but I had to show it to somebody. Got any children?" he turned upon Enoch suddenly.
"No. Not any—living."
The old man's voice wavered, and caught itself on the last word.
Jerry thrust the cradle aside hastily.
"Neither have I, uncle, neither have I," he said; "not chick nor child. If you ain't too tired, let me show you over the house. I'm sorry the elevator isn't running, so you could go up to the cupolo. This room's a sort of e pluribus unum, many in one; kind of a boodwar and kitchen combined. The other rooms ain't inclosed yet, but they're safe enough outside. That's the advantage of this climate, you don't have to put everything under cover. Ground-plan suit you pretty well?"
"I think thee's very cosy," Enoch said, smiling gravely; "when does thee look for thy wife?"
"Just as soon as she's able," said Jerry, drawing an empty nail-keg confidentially toward Enoch and seating himself; "you see"—
He stopped short. The cradle behind the old man was still rocking gently.
"I guess it won't be very long," he added indifferently.