out the accompanying symbol of a muffled
knocker. Mrs Kenwigs was a lady of some pretensions to gentility; Mrs
Kenwigs was confined. And, therefore, Mr Kenwigs tied up the silent
knocker on the premises in a white kid glove.

'I'm not quite certain neither,' said Mr Kenwigs, arranging his
shirt-collar, and walking slowly upstairs, 'whether, as it's a boy, I
won't have it in the papers.'

Pondering upon the advisability of this step, and the sensation it was
likely to create in the neighbourhood, Mr Kenwigs betook himself to the
sitting-room, where various extremely diminutive articles of clothing
were airing on a horse before the fire, and Mr Lumbey, the doctor, was
dandling the baby--that is, the old baby--not the new one.

'It's a fine boy, Mr Kenwigs,' said Mr Lumbey, the doctor.

'You consider him a fine boy, do you, sir?' returned Mr Kenwigs.

'It's the finest boy I ever saw in all my life,' said the doctor. 'I
never saw such a baby.'

It is a pleasant thing to reflect upon, and furnishes a complete answer
to those who contend for the gradual degeneration of the human species,
that every baby born into the world is a finer one than the last.

'I ne--ver saw such a baby,' said Mr Lumbey, the doctor.

'Morleena was a fine baby,' remarked Mr Kenwigs; as if this were rather
an attack, by implication, upon the family.

'They were all fine babies,' said Mr Lumbey. And Mr Lumbey went on
nursing the baby with a thoughtful look. Whether he was considering
under what head he could best charge the nursing in the bill, was best
known to himself.

During this short conversation, Miss Morleena, as the eldest of
the family, and natural representative of her mother during her
indisposition, had been hustling and slapping the three younger Miss
Kenwigses, without intermission; which considerate and affectionate
conduct brought tears into the eyes of Mr Kenwigs, and caused him to
declare that, in understanding and behaviour, that child was a woman.

'She will be a treasure to the man she marries, sir,' said Mr Kenwigs,
half aside; 'I think she'll marry above her station, Mr Lumbey.'

'I shouldn't wonder at all,' replied the doctor.

'You never see her dance, sir, did you?' asked Mr Kenwigs.

The doctor shook his head.

'Ay!' said Mr Kenwigs, as though he pitied him from his heart, 'then you
don't know what she's capable of.'

All this time there had been a great whisking in and out of the other
room; the door had