instinct was very
strong, and she was entirely absorbed in her children, to the utter
exclusion of everything and everybody else. Day and night she brooded
over them with tireless devotion and anxiety, leaving John to the
tender mercies of the help, for an Irish lady now presided over the
kitchen department. Being a domestic man, John decidedly missed the
wifely attentions he had been accustomed to receive, but as he adored
his babies, he cheerfully relinquished his comfort for a time,
supposing with masculine ignorance that peace would soon be restored.
But three months passed, and there was no return of repose. Meg looked
worn and nervous, the babies absorbed every minute of her time, the
house was neglected, and Kitty, the cook, who took life 'aisy', kept
him on short commons. When he went out in the morning he was
bewildered by small commissions for the captive mamma, if he came gaily
in at night, eager to embrace his family, he was quenched by a "Hush!
They are just asleep after worrying all day." If he proposed a little
amusement at home, "No, it would disturb the babies." If he hinted at
a lecture or a concert, he was answered with a reproachful look, and a
decided--"Leave my children for pleasure, never!" His sleep was broken
by infant wails and visions of a phantom figure pacing noiselessly to
and fro in the watches of the night. His meals were interrupted by the
frequent flight of the presiding genius, who deserted him, half-helped,
if a muffled chirp sounded from the nest above. And when he read his
paper of an evening, Demi's colic got into the shipping list and
Daisy's fall affected the price of stocks, for Mrs. Brooke was only
interested in domestic news.

The poor man was very uncomfortable, for the children had bereft him of
his wife, home was merely a nursery and the perpetual 'hushing' made
him feel like a brutal intruder whenever he entered the sacred
precincts of Babyland. He bore it very patiently for six months, and
when no signs of amendment appeared, he did what other paternal exiles
do--tried to get a little comfort elsewhere. Scott had married and
gone to housekeeping not far off, and John fell into the way of running
over for an hour or two of an evening, when his own parlor was empty,
and his own wife singing lullabies that seemed to have no end. Mrs.
Scott was a lively, pretty girl, with nothing to do but be agreeable,
and she performed her mission most successfully. The parlor