“And hers,” said Hadria.
“Come, come, life is passing; I have but one; relax these fetters, or I die.”
Martha frowned and fretted. She even looked shocked, according to Hadria, who stood by laughing. The baby, she pointed out, failed to understand how her captive could so far forget himself as to desire to regain his liberty.
“She reminds you, sternly, that this is your proper sphere.”
“Perdition!” he exclaimed.
“As a general rule,” she assented.
The Professor laughed, and said he was tired of being a Type.
At length a little gentle force had to be used, in spite of furious resentment on the part of the baby. A more injured and ill-treated mortal could not have been imagined. She set up a heaven-piercing wail, evidently overcome with indignation and surprise at the cruel treatment that she had received. What horrid selfishness to take oneself and one’s property away, when an engaging innocent enjoys grasping it and stuffing it into its mouth!
“Don’t you feel a guilty monster?” Hadria enquired, as the lament of the offended infant followed them up the road.
“I feel as if I were slinking off after a murder!” he exclaimed ruefully. “I wonder if we oughtn’t to go back and try again to soothe the child.” He paused irresolutely.