“Goldylocks, Goldylocks! Oh, bring him here, nurse. Skillikins, dillikins! oh, such a dove! And if nobody else cares for poor mamma, he has got so much better taste, hasnʼt he?”
Goldylocks very soon proved that he had; and Georgie, having quite recovered her temper, admired him so ecstatically, that even his mother thought her judgment was really worth something.
“Give him to me; I canʼt do without him. O you beautiful cherub! Kicklewick, I am sure you never saw any one like him.”
“That indeed I never did, maʼam,” answered nurse Kicklewick, holding her arms out, as if she must have him back again; “many a fine child I have seen, and done for to my humble ability, maʼam, since the time I were at Lord Eldergunʼs; and her ladyship said to me—ʼKicklewick,’ says she——”
“Oh, his love of a nosey–posey! Oh, then his bootiful eyes, dick, dock! And then his golden hair, you know, so lovely, chaste, and rare, you know! Will um have a dancey–prancey?”
And Georgie, forgetting all dignity, went through a little Polish dance, with the baby in her arms, to his very grave amazement, and the delight of all beholders.
Although of the genuine Hutton strain, he was too young to crow yet, nevertheless he expressed approval in the most emphatic water–colours. Mrs. Huttonʼs heart was won for ever.
“Oh, darling, I am so obliged to you. He has positively popped two bubbles. A thing he never did before! How can I ever repay you?”
“By letting me come over and dance him twice a week. Oh, that I only had a boy!—because I do love boy–babies so.”
“One would think that you must have had fifty, at least, before you were five–and–twenty! How on earth do you understand him so? I only know half what he means, though I try for hours and hours.”