"Better suited to the humdrum class represented by his father and older brother, I presume," said Rupert, with a good-humored smile.
As Don stepped in at Wallace Ormsby's gate, Zillah opened the front door, ran out, and hastily caught up little Stuart, who was digging in the sand, and carried him struggling and screaming into the house.
"It's too cold for you to be out; mamma can't let you; mamma told you not to go out," she was saying as Don followed her into the sitting-room.
"I will doe out! Ope de door!" screamed the child; "me wants pay in de sand."
"No, you can't go out any more to-night," replied the mother, giving him a hug and kiss. "Oh, he's mamma's darling! there never was such a boy in all the world! there never was! Mamma loves him ever so much."
Meanwhile the child was struggling with all his baby might to get away from her, kicking, striking, screaming at the top of his voice, "I will doe out! I will! I will! Shan't 'tay in de house!"
"Oh, now, be a dear good boy," entreated Zillah; "he's mamma's own pet, the dearest, sweetest boy in the world; mamma thinks there never was such a boy!"
"I should hope not, if that's the way he carries on," remarked Don, seating himself and regarding his nephew with a look of disgust and disapproval. "I think he's spoiling for a spanking, and if he were my child he'd get it."
Zillah flushed hotly. "Men and boys have no patience with children," she said. "There, Stuart, stop crying, and mamma will get you something good."
"No; ope door; me want doe out; me will doe out!" screamed the child.