To Orde she seemed
fragile, aloof, enshrined among her laces and dainty ribbons.
Hardly dared he touch her when she held her hand out to him weakly,
but fell on his knees beside the bed and buried his face in the
clothes. She placed a gentle hand caressingly on his head.
So they remained for some time. Finally he raised his eyes. She
held her lips to him. He kissed them.
"It seems sort of make-believe even yet, sweetheart," she smiled at
him whimsically, "that we have a real, live baby all of our own."
"Like other people," said Orde.
"Not like other people at all!" she disclaimed, with a show of
indignation.
Grandma Orde brought the newcomer in for Orde's inspection. He
looked gravely down on the puckered, discoloured bit of humanity
with some feeling of disappointment, and perhaps a faint uneasiness.
After a moment he voiced the latter.
"Is--do you think--that is--" he hesitated, "does the doctor say
he's going to be all right?"
"All right!" cried Grandma Orde indignantly. "I'd like to know if
he isn't all right now! What in the world do you expect of a new-
born baby?"
But Carroll was laughing softly to herself on the bed. She held out
her arms for the baby, and cuddled it close to her breast.
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