“Yes, oh yes, I know and appreciate it; but, no doubt, they were given with your approval. Ah, Mamma Vi,” as Violet approached, “I hardly know how to thank you enough for your lovely gifts to my baby daughter.”
“Then don’t try,” returned Violet in mirthful tones. “I assure you, the pleasure I found in doing it was reward enough. How is the little dear this evening? Ah, I see she is sound asleep. How nicely her papa must have rolled the little coach along to get her in that condition.”
“She does more sleeping than anything else so far in her life,” laughed Max, looking down admiringly into the sweet, fair baby face resting so quietly on the soft pillow.
The children, following their parents, had met them now.
“Oh, we want to see the dear baby!” they said in excited, but rather hushed, voices. “Let us look at her, Brother Max.”
“Not yet,” he answered. “Let us keep her asleep as long as we can; then when she wakes of herself she will probably be in a pleasant mood. I don’t like to hear a baby cry. Do you?”
They had reached the house, and the gentlemen lifted the coach up into the veranda without waking the young sleeper.
Lucilla was on the veranda, gazing about from side to side.
“Oh, how sweet the dear old home does look!” she cried. “I want to go all over this story and the next just now. May I, father?”