The bread and milk had been given her about twelve o'clock, and the
laugh she gave when she saw it showed her appreciation of it quite as
much as the eagerness with which she ate it. Her appetite appeased,
however, she began to play with it and throw the milk over the table and
into Mrs. Crawford's face, just as Harold came in, full of what he had
seen at the park, and anxious to see his baby, as he called her.
Taking her on his lap and kissing her rosy cheeks, he began to narrate
to his grandmother all that had been done, and told her that Mr. St.
Claire had given it as his opinion that the woman was French.
'And if so,' he continued, 'baby must be French, too, though she does
not look a bit like her mother, who is very dark and not--well, not at
all like you or Mrs. St. Claire.'
Then he told of the trunk which the baggage-master had taken to the
park, and of what it contained.
'The woman's clothes were marked "N.B."' he said, 'and some of the
baby's--such a funny name. Mr. St. Claire said it was French, and
pronounced "Jerreen," though it is spelled "Jerrine."'
'That is the name of the child's things in the bag,' Mrs. Crawford said.
'Of course it is baby's, then,' Harold replied; 'but, I shall call her
Jerry for short, even if it is a boy's name, and so my little lady, I
christen you Jerry;' and kissing the forehead, the eyes, the nose, and
the chin, he marked the shape of the cross upon the face upturned to
his, and named his baby 'Jerry.
Pages:
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184