Evelyn was sitting there with her baby on her knee, and many of the children gathered about her, saying they wanted a bit of fun with her—the baby—before going home; wanted to hear her talk.
“But she is too young to talk,” said Evelyn; “she will hardly be able to say anything for months to come.”
“Oh, her father can make her talk,” laughed Eric; “if he tells her to, she’ll mind him. Won’t you, baby dear?”
“Yes, I will. Babies ought to do what their papas tell them to.”
The words seemed to come from the little lips, and the children turned to see if Max was near. He was, and smiled in response to their questioning glances.
“Doesn’t she do pretty well for so young a talker?” he asked.
“Yes, sir, with her father to help her,” laughed Eric. “But I’m afraid she won’t be able to do so well when you are away on shipboard. Unless Cousin Ronald is somewhere near,” he added, as an after thought.
“Yes, I like Cousin Ronald,” the baby voice seemed to say.
“And you love your aunties, don’t you?” asked Elsie Raymond, leaning over her.
“Yes, I love you and all the other ones.”