out of him that's handy--sauce
du ciel! Go, batten on the baby, cannibal. Dinner at seven."

Adrian gave him his own address, and Lucy's, and strolled off to do the
better thing.

Overnight Mrs. Berry had observed a long stranger in her tea-cup.
Posting him on her fingers and starting him with a smack, he had vaulted
lightly and thereby indicated that he was positively coming the next
day. She forgot him in the bustle of her duties and the absorption
of her faculties in thoughts of the incomparable stranger Lucy had
presented to the world, till a knock at the street-door reminded
her. "There he is!" she cried, as she ran to open to him. "There's my
stranger come!" Never was a woman's faith in omens so justified. The
stranger desired to see Mrs. Richard Feverel. He said his name was Mr.
Austin Wentworth. Mrs. Berry clasped her hands, exclaiming, "Come at
last!" and ran bolt out of the house to look up and down the street.
Presently she returned with many excuses for her rudeness, saying: "I
expected to see her comin' home, Mr. Wentworth. Every day twice a day
she go out to give her blessed angel an airing. No leavin' the child
with nursemaids for her! She is a mother! and good milk, too, thank the
Lord! though her heart's so low."

Indoors Mrs. Berry stated who she was, related the history of the young
couple and her participation in it, and admired the beard. "Although
I'd swear you don't wear it for ornament, now!" she said, having in the
first impulse designed a stroke at man's vanity.

Ultimately Mrs. Berry spoke of the family complication, and with
dejected head and joined hands threw out dark hints about Richard.

While Austin was giving his cheerfuller views of the case, Lucy came in
preceding the baby.

"I am Austin Wentworth," he said, taking her hand. They read each
other's faces, these two, and smiled kinship.

"Your name is Lucy?"

She affirmed it softly.

"And mine is Austin, as you know."

Mrs. Berry allowed time for Lucy's charms to subdue him, and presented
Richard's representative, who, seeing a new face, suffered himself to be
contemplated before he commenced crying aloud and knocking at the doors
of Nature for something that was due to him.

"Ain't he a lusty darlin'?" says Mrs. Berry. "Ain't he like his own
father? There can't be no doubt about zoo, zoo pitty pet. Look at his
fists. Ain't he got passion? Ain't he a splendid roarer? Oh!" and she
went off rapturously into baby-language.