"Baby!" I cried. "Where did you come from? Where's your mamma, darling?" And I took a step towards her.
"What's that, Silvia?" called Jack from within. I turned my head and saw him sitting at his desk.
"Come quick, Jack; there's the loveliest baby—" I turned back to the child, looked, blinked, and at this moment Jack stepped out beside me.
"Baby?" he inquired. "What on earth are you talking about, Silvia dearest?"
"Why, but—" I exclaimed. "There was one! How did she get away? She was sitting right there when I called."
"A baby!" repeated my husband. "My dear, babies don't appear and disappear like East-Indian magicians. You have been napping, and are trying to conceal the shameful fact."
"Jack," I said, decisively, "don't you suppose I know a baby when I see one? She was sitting right there, playing with the shadows, and I—It's certainly very queer!"
Jack grinned. "Go and put on your habit," he replied; "the horses will be here in ten minutes. And remember that when you have accounted for her disap
pearance, her presence still remains to be explained. Or perhaps you think Wah Sing produced her from his sleeve?"
I laughed. Wah Sing was our Chinese cook, and more apt, I thought, to put something up his sleeve than to take anything out.