e an obstacle. She took a good deal of care of the child, for she said
she would not see an innocent creature neglected, even if it was
an incipient hod-carrier, but she did not relax in the least in her
attention to Pomona's baby.

The next day was about the same, in regard to infantile incident, but,
on the day after, I began to tire of my new charge, and Pat, on his
side, seemed to be tired of me, for he turned from me when I went to
take him up, while he would hold out his hands to Euphemia, and grin
delightedly when she took him.

That morning I drove to the village and spent an hour or two there. On
my return I found Euphemia sitting in our room, with little Pat on her
lap. I was astonished at the change in the young rascal. He was dressed,
from head to foot, in a suit of clothes belonging to Pomona's baby; the
glowing fuzz on his head was brushed and made as smooth as possible,
while his little muslin sleeves were tied up with blue ribbon.

I stood speechless at the sight.

"Don't he look nice?" said Euphemia, standing him up on her knees. "It
shows what good clothes will do. I'm glad I helped Pomona make up so
many. He's getting ever so fond of me, ze itty Patsy, watsy! See how
strong he is! He can almost stand on his legs! Look how he laughs! He's
just as cunning as he can be. And oh! I was going to speak about that
box. I wouldn't have him sleep in that old packing-box. There are little
wicker cradles at the store--I saw them last week--they don't cost much,
and you could bring one up in the carriage. There's the other baby,
crying, and I don't know where Pomona is. Just you mind him a minute,
please!" and out she ran.

I looked out of the window. The horse still stood harnessed to the
carriage, as I had left him. I saw Pat's old shawl lying in a corner.
I seized it, and rolling him in it, new clothes and all, I hurried
down-stairs, climbed into the carriage, hastily disposed Pat in my lap,
and turned the horse. The demeanor of the youngster was very different
from what it was when I first took him in my lap to drive away with him.
There was no confiding twinkle in his eye, no contented munching of his
little fists. He gazed up at me with wild alarm, and as I drove out of
the gate, he burst forth into such a yell that Lord Edward came bounding
around the house to see what was the matter. Euphemia suddenly appeared
at an upper window and called out to me, but I did not hear what she
said. I whipped up the