“I suppose so. Can you come with me?”
“Yes.”
“Why, Thea, my love!” remonstrated Mrs. de Vere, who was at the window in an easy-chair knitting silken hose for Master Alan.
Thea looked at her in some surprise.
“Why not, mother?” she asked.
“You forget how cold it is at the North now. How could you take your nursing baby there?” said grandmamma.
“That is true. I did not think,” Thea cried, penitently, then her smile faded. “But how could I let Norman go without me?”
“And how could I leave you?” cried the lover-husband, fondly; and the dark eyes dwelt on the blue ones with passionate tenderness.
“Alan takes precedence of everybody else,” grandmamma announced, peremptorily.
“Leave him at home with a wet-nurse,” said Norman.