“Oh, yes; of course,” answered several voices, as they all rose from the table and withdrew to the library to unite in the usual morning worship.
The babies’ dainty crib had been brought down to an adjoining room for the day, and there they lay sweetly sleeping.
As soon as the short service had come to an end, Zoe, motioning to Harold and Herbert to follow, led the way to the side of the crib, and laying back the cover brought the two tiny forms to view lying side by side, the little plump faces turned toward each other, round, rosy, and dimpled.
“There, aren’t they beauties, boys?” exclaimed Zoe, bending over her treasures in a perfect rapture of mother-love and admiration. “Did you ever see anything half so sweet?”
“Well, really, they are quite passable, considering their extreme youth,” returned Harold sportively. “I say, Ned, what would you take for them?”
“They are not in the market, sir,” replied the young father, regarding them with pride and admiration. “Though you should offer every dollar you possess it would be utterly contemned.”
“Ah, ’tis just as well, Ned, for I should not know what to do with such tender, delicate little morsels of humanity if I had them.”
“You don’t half appreciate them,” said Zoe, half jestingly, half in earnest, “you don’t deserve the honor of being their uncle.”
“We’ll enjoy and appreciate them more a year or two hence, when they can be romped and played with,” remarked Herbert. “But, really, Zoe, they’re as pretty as any young baby I ever saw.”
Rosie looked in at the door with the announcement, “The Woodburn carriage is coming up the avenue,” and the three brothers hurried out to greet its occupants. They were the whole Raymond family, from the captain down to baby Ned, and scarcely had greetings been exchanged with them when the Lelands from Fairview arrived, and Grandma Elsie had all her children about her.