“Shall we call her Elsie for your good, kind aunt?” returned Max.
“I should like to give that token of affection to both her and her mother,” said Evelyn, “were it not that there are already so many Elsies in the connection. How would Mary do? Perhaps shortening it to Maie.”
“Quite well, I think,” said Max. “So let us call her our little Maie.”
“Little treasure!” murmured Evelyn, gazing upon the baby face. “Oh, Max, I feel it very sweet to be a mother—to have a little darling of my very own.”
“And I find it far from unpleasant to be a father,” he returned gaily, “the only drawback upon my felicity being the hard fact that I must leave my two dearest ones so often for my life upon the sea.”
“Ah,” she sighed, “I must try not to think of that now. It is a hard thought, though I am proud of my husband’s readiness to serve his country.”
“A country well worth serving, I think,” smiled Max; “the grandest one in the world.”
Doctor and nurse both came in at that moment.
“In which opinion I heartily agree with you,” said Harold, having overheard Max’s last sentence. “But remember, my good naval officer, that you must not talk in too exciting a way to my patient.”
“Oh, I am not at all excited, but if you abuse my husband I shall be,” said Evelyn, with mirthful look and tone.