"No; she is really a remarkably beautiful babe. Strangers pronounce her so as well as ourselves. Do you feel quite strong enough to hold her?"
"Oh, yes, sir; yes, indeed! The doctor says he thinks there would now be no danger in my lifting her, but——" laughingly, and with a fond look up into her husband's eyes, as at that moment he entered the room, "that old tyrant is so fearful of an injury to this piece of his personal property, that he won't let me."
"That old tyrant, eh?" he repeated, stooping to take a kiss from the sweet lips, and to bestow one on the wee face resting on her bosom.
"Yes, you know you are," she answered, her eyes contradicting her words; "the idea of you forbidding me to lift my own baby!"
"My baby, my little friend," he said gayly.
Elsie laughed a low, silvery, happy laugh, musical as a chime of bells. "Our baby," she corrected. "But you have not spoken to papa."
"Ah, we said good-morning out in the avenue. Dinsmore, since we are all three here together now, suppose we get Elsie's decision in regard to that matter we were consulting about."
"Very well."
"What matter?" she asked, looking a little curious.
"A business affair," replied her husband, taking a seat by her side.