.. On the other hand, he
treats me worse than a shoe!"

The entrance of Serafina with the baby again interrupted the
conversation; behind her came all the maids, evincing a lively
excitement:

"What is the matter?"

"Why! the baby smiled!" said Serafina.

"Smiled! He smiled, as sure as there is a God in heaven, senorita," said
one of the maids, adding her testimony.

"Go along with you! you are all crazy!" said Dona Martina. "Why, he is
only two days old!"

"It cannot be," insisted Maximina, although she flushed with joy at the
thought.

"But he did; he did!" exclaimed all the servants.

"This is the way it happened, senorita," said one maid, scarcely able to
get her breath. "The Senorita Serafina was this way with the baby; do
you see? And I looked and took hold of him by the shoulder, do you see?
and lifted him up, and began to move him up and down, and to say:
'Little chicken![43] rosebud! pink! do you want to be called Miguelito,
like your papa?' The baby didn't do anything. 'Do you want to be called
Enriquito like your uncle?' He didn't do anything this time either. 'Do
you want to be called Serafin after your aunt?' And then he opened his
eyes just a wee bit, and made up a little mouth with his lips. Oh, so
cunning!"

Maximina smiled as though she had been listening to a revelation from
heaven. She, and her aunt also, were instantly convinced, but Miguel
still doubted.

"When it comes to the smiling of infants not more than fifty-seven hours
old," said Miguel, "I must confess to an unyielding scepticism. I am
like Saint Thomas: seeing is believing."

"But he _did_ smile, Miguel. Don't you have any doubt of it; I assure
you he did, ..." said Serafina.

"You do not offer me sufficient guarantees of impartiality."

"Very good! then he is going to do it again; now you shall see for
yourself."

Serafina took the child and lifted him above her head, with great
decision, at the same time asking him if he wanted to be called Serafin;
to which question the child did not find it expedient to reply, perhaps
from an excess of diplomacy, because it would not have been strange if
the name had seemed absurd to him.

Maximina, meantime, hung on his lips as though the child were passing
through a college examination.

"You try it, Placida," said she, trying to hide her affliction.

Placida stepped out of the group like one of the "artists" of Price's
circus, coming forth to perform his great feat. She lifte