There seemed no end to the old gentleman’s mirth, when Mrs. Webb, unable to contain herself any longer, indignantly exclaimed—“Uncle Banks, I wonder at your coming here to insult us in this manner! What can make you act in this strange unnatural way? You have hurt my husband’s feelings; which, I can tell you, is more painful to me than if you had insulted me alone.”
When the old gentleman could stop himself, he held out his arms as if he still held the child—“Here, Winny,” said he, the tears of laughter running down his cheeks—“here, take the baby; why don’t you take the child, I say? I shall certainly let it fall.”
“Uncle Banks, if you would only come to your senses, you would know that”—
“Hold your peace, Winny, and take the doll—the baby I mean.”
“You know well enough, uncle, that Mr. Webb took the child from you and left the room. I could see that he was exceedingly hurt at”—
“What?” said the obdurate man—“what, did he actually take away the baby, and I not miss it nor him either? Winny, I thought it was light, but I did not dream it was so feathery that I could not tell whether I held it or not—why I should have missed a down pincushion.”
Mrs. Webb burst into tears. This sobered the old man at once. “My dear Winny,” said he, going suddenly to her, and kissing her cheek, “how foolish it is in you to mind what your old uncle says or does in his fun. Come, deary, do not cry any more, but save your eyes to look at the pretty things I have brought you. Here, girl,” calling to a servant, “tell those men to bring in that trunk.”
A large trunk was brought in, which he hastened to open; and it was not in the nature of one so constituted as Mrs. Webb, to remain insensible to the pleasure of examining such presents as her uncle had placed before her. She forgot her vexation, and her eyes sparkled with delight as the old gentleman, with much ostentatious parade, drew out each valuable article. When he had, in this way, emptied the trunk, he asked her if she had forgiven him for his laughter.
“Indeed, uncle Banks,” said she, “I am so used to your humour, that if I alone were concerned, I should not mind it; but Mr. Webb feels such things keenly, for he has a great deal of sensibility. I am sure, however, that he will be delighted with the books—how elegantly they are bound—and he will be more than pleased with this beautiful tea set of silver. What a great help this is to our housekeeping; and all these spoons too, and silver forks—Mr. Webb has a great fondness for silver plate. I must call him in to thank you.”
“No don’t, Winny, don’t,” said her uncle, “I shall relapse, for I can hardly help going at it fresh again when I think of his tiny, slender little figure. Why don’t you send him in the country, to get a little flesh on his little bones?”