“Ar-goo-goo-goo!” screamed Algernon in a passion, and kicking fearfully.
“See how he tries to talk—how he does talk!” cried Alexia, whirling around with him till his arms and legs appeared to Grace like so many spokes to a wheel in rapid motion. “Oh, my dear! So he should tell his old mother all about it. Grace, isn’t he perfectly wonderful?”
“He is a baby,” said Grace, saying the first thing that came into her mind.
“I knew you’d say so when you came to see him,” declared Alexia, with a triumphant flush on her sallow face. “That isn’t half he can do, either.”
She set Algernon on the floor, and dropped there herself, regardless of her elaborate morning-dress. “Crawl over mummy, now,” she commanded.
But Algernon preferred to crawl just the other way, after his ball.
“That’s just it!” cried Alexia delightedly. “Now, you see he’s not to be led. He’s going to think for himself. Oh, I expect great things from that boy, Grace!”
A placid-looking woman in a big stiff white cap sat by the window sewing.
“Now, there’s Bonny,” said Alexia, still sitting on the floor, and looking over at her, “she’s thoroughly commonplace, and can’t rise to the superiority of that blessed child. And strange to say, Grace, his father can’t either. But I can; oh, you dear!” with that she caught Algernon by one of his fat little legs, and drew him to her. And then ensued a wild screaming on Algernon’s part, and a petting on Alexia’s, Grace backing off to the door, feeling that the room was too small for so much action.
“Now I’m going to have a talk with you, Grace,” said Alexia presently, and hanging tightly to her baby, “come,” in one of the lulls when Algernon paused to take breath, “let’s go into your room.”