d from the young, patient wife; but she turned away hurriedly, and
there was a twinkle, as of a rain-drop, falling through the lamplight.

A dead silence followed. After a few more turns, the husband stopped, and,
with something of self-reproach in his tone, said--

"I take it for granted there is nothing the matter with the boy?"

No answer.

"Have you any idea what made him cry so terribly? Teething, perhaps."

No answer.

"Or the colic. You do not answer me, Sarah. It cannot be that you have
allowed that girl to put him to bed, if there is anything the matter with
him, poor little fellow!"

The young wife looked up, sorrowing and frightened.

"The measles are about, you know, and the scarlet fever, and the
hooping-cough, and the mumps; but, surely, a mother who is with her child
all night long and all day long ought to be able to see the symptoms of any
and every ailment before they would be suspected by another. And if it
should so happen"--

The poor wife could be silent no longer.

"The child is well enough," said she, somewhat stoutly. "He was never
better in his life. But he wanted his papa to take him, and he wouldn't;
and reaching after him he tipped over the lamp, and then--and then"--and
here she jumped up to leave the room; but her husband was too quick for
her.

"That child's temper will be ruined," said papa.

"To be sure it will," said mamma; "and I've always said so."

She couldn't help it; but she was very sorry, and not a little flurried
when her husband, turning short upon her, said--

"I understand you, Sarah. Perhaps he wanted me to take him up to bed?"

No answer.

"I wonder if he expects me to do that for him till he is married? _Little
arms_, indeed!"

No answer.

"Or till he is wanted to do as much for me?"

No answer; not even a smile.

And now the unhappy father, by no means ready to give up, though not at all
satisfied with himself, begins walking the floor anew and muttering to
himself, and looking sideways at his dear patient wife, who has gone back
to the table, and is employed in getting up another large basket of
baby-things, with trembling lips and eyes running over in bashful
thankfulness and silence.

"Well, well, there is no help for it, I dare say. As we brew we must bake.
It would be not merely unreasonable, but silly--foolish--absolutely
foolish--whew!--to ask of a woman, however admirable her disposition may
be, for a--for a straightforward--Why what t