'Niece?' said the Stranger.
'Wife,' roared John.
'Indeed?' observed the Stranger. 'Surely? Very
young!'
He quietly turned over, and resumed his reading.
But, before he could have read two lines he again
interrupted himself to say:
'Baby, yours?'
John gave him a gigantic nod; equivalent to an
answer in the affirmative, delivered through a speak-
ing trumpet.
'Girl?'
'Bo-o-oy!' roared John.
'Also very young, eh?'
Mrs. Peerybingle instantly struck in. 'Two months
and three da-ays! Vaccinated just six weeks ago-o!
Took very fine-ly! Considered, by the doctor, a re-
markably beautiful chi-ild! Equal to the general run
of children at five months o-old! Takes notice, in a
way quite won-der-ful! May seem impossible to
you, but feels his legs al-ready!'
Here the breathless little mother, who had been
shrieking these short sentences into the old man's ear.
until her pretty face was crimsoned, held up the Baby
before him as a stubborn and triumphant fact; while
Tilly Slowboy, with a melodious cry of 'Ketcher,
Ketcher' -- which sounded like some unknown words,
adapted to a popular Sneeze -- performed some cow-
like gambols round that all-unconscious Innocent.
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