Perry had joined them, and stood by his mother’s side, glancing wonderingly from one to the other. Presently he doubled up his fist and shook it in his father’s face. “Go ’way, bad man!” he said, fiercely; “oo make my mamma cry. Go ’way! I’ll tell my papa on oo, and he’ll whip oo!”
“He’ll have a big job on his hands if he attempts that,” Golding said, regarding the little fellow with an amused smile. “But I’m your papa, my man.”
“No, oo ain’t!” cried the child, backing away as he would have taken him by the hand.
Just then an infant’s cry came from within the house
“There! oo’ve waked the baby—my ’ittle sister—oo bad ole man! Go ’way dis minute!” cried Perry, with a stamp of his baby foot, while Serena rose hurriedly, ran into the sitting-room, snatched her babe from its crib, and, straining it to her breast, turned and faced Golding, who had followed her in.
“Yours?” he queried, with an angry flush on his cheek.
“Yes, mine,” she said, firmly, soothing it with tenderest caresses; “my own precious darling.”
“Jasper’s brat, eh? She’ll have to be left behind when you go with me.”
“Then I’ll never go with you! Leave my baby, indeed! never, never while I draw the breath of life!”
“Now, see here, Serena,” he said, in a tone of expostulation, “you know you’re not Jasper’s wife, and can’t be while I live.”