[Illustration: 'B']
Boy, you say, doctor? An' she don't know it yet? Then what 're you
tellin' _me_ for? No, sir--take it away. I don't want to lay my eyes
on it till she's saw it--not if I _am_ its father. She's its _mother_,
I reckon!
Better lay it down somew'eres an' go to _her_--not there on the
rockin'-cheer, for somebody to set on--'n' not on the trunk, please.
That ain't none o' yo' ord'nary new-born bundles, to be dumped on a box
that'll maybe be opened sudden d'rec'ly for somethin' needed, an' be
dropped ag'in' the wall-paper behind it.
_It's hers_, whether she knows it or not. _Don't_, for _gracious_ sakes,
lay 'im on the _table! Anybody_ knows _that's_ bad luck.
You think it might bother her on the bed? She's that bad? An' they ain't
no fire kindled in the settin'-room, to lay it in there.
_S-i-r?_ Well, yas, I--I reck'n I'll _haf_ to hold it, ef you say
so--that is--of co'se--
_Wait_, doctor! _Don't_ let go of it _yet!_ Lordy! but I'm thess _shore_
to drop it! Lemme set down _first, doctor_, here by the fire an' git
het th'ugh. Not yet! My ol' shin-bones stan' up thess like a pair o'
dog-irons. Lemme bridge 'em over first 'th somethin' soft. That'll do.
She patched that quilt herself. Hold on a minute, 'tel I git the aidges
of it under my ol' boots, to keep it f'om saggin' down in the middle.
There, now! Merciful goodness, but I never! I'd rather trus' myself with
a whole playin' fountain in blowed glass'n sech ez this.
Stoop down there, doctor, please, sir, an' shove the end o' this quilt
a leetle further under my foot, won't you? Ef it was to let up sudden,
I wouldn't have no more lap 'n what any other fool man's got.
'N' now--you go to _her_.
I'd feel a heap safeter ef this quilt was nailed to the flo' on each
side o'my legs. They're trimblin' so I dunno what minute my feet'll let
go their holt.
An' she don't know it yet! An' he layin' here, dressed up in all the
little clo'es she sewed! She mus' be purty bad. I dunno, though; maybe
that's gen'ally the way.
They're keepin' mighty still in that room. Blessed ef I don't begin to
feel 'is warmth in my ol' knee-bones! An' he's a-breathin' thess ez
reg'lar ez that clock, on'y quicker. Lordy! An' she don't know it yet!
An' he a boy! He taken that after the Joneses; we've all been boys in
our male branch. When that name strikes, seem like it comes to stay.
Now for a girl--
Wonder if he ain't covered up mos' too close-t. Seem like he snuffles
purty loud--for a beginner.