n's way," cried Pete with a roar, and he made a rush for the
stairs.

Nancy blocked him at the foot of them with both hands on his shoulders.
"You'll be quiet, then," she whispered. "You were always a rasonable
man, Pete, and she's wonderful wake--promise you'll be quiet."

"I'll be like a mouse," said Pete, and he wiped off his long sea-boots
and crept on tiptoe into the room. There she lay with the morning light
on her, and a face as white as the quilt that she was plucking with her
long fingers.

"Thank God for a living mother and a living child," said Pete in a
broken gurgle, and then he drew down the bedclothes a very little, and
there too was the child on the pillow of her other arm.

Then, do what he would to be quiet, he could not help but make a shout.

"He's there! Yes, he is! He is, though! Joy! Joy!"

The women were down on him like a flock of geese. "Out of this, sir, if
you can't behave better."

"Excuse me, ladies," said Pete humbly, "I'm not in the habit of babies.
A bit excited, you see, Mistress Nancy, ma'am. Couldn't help putting a
bull of a roar out, not being used of the like." Then, turning back to
the bed, "Aw, Kitty, the beauty it is, though! And the big! As big as my
fist already. And the fat! It's as fat as a bluebottle. And the
straight! Well, not so _very_ straight neither, but the complexion at
him now! Give him to me, Kitty! give him to me, the young rascal. Let me
have a hould of him anyway."

"_Him_, indeed! Listen to the man," said Nancy.

"It's a girl, Pete," said Grannie, lifting the child out of the bed.

"A girl, is it?" said Pete doubtfully. "Well," he said, with a wag of
the head, "thank God for a girl." Then, with another and more resolute
wag, "Yes, thank God for a living mother and a living child, if it _is_
a girl," and he stretched out his arms to take the baby.

"Aisy, now, Pete--aisy," said Grannie, holding it out to him.

"Is it aisy broke they are, Grannie?" said Pete. A good spirit looked
out of his great boyish face. "Come to your ould daddie, you lil
sandpiper. Gough bless me, Kitty, the weight of him, though! This
child's a quarter of a hundred, if he's an ounce. He is, I'll go bail he
is. Look at him! Guy heng, Grannie, did ye ever see the like, now! It's
abs'lute perfection. Kitty, I couldn't have had a better one if I'd
chiced it. Where's that Tom Hommy now? The bleating little billygoat, he
was bragging outrageous about his new baby--saying he wouldn't