No, you don’t take ’im, neither.  I’ll tote ’im myself.

Now, go fetch a piller till I lay ’im on it.  That’s it.  And now git me somethin’ stiff to lay the piller on.  There!  That lapboa’d ’ll do.  Why didn’t I think about that befo’?  It’s a heap safeter ’n my ole knee-j’ints.  Now, I’ve got ’im secure. Wait, doctor—­hold on!  I’m afeered you ’ll haf to ca’y ’im in to her, after all.  I’ll cry ef I do it.  I’m trimblin’ like ez ef I had a’ager, thess a-startin’ in with ‘im—­an seein’ me give way might make her nervious.  You take ’im to her, and lemme come in sort o’ unconcerned terreckly, after she an’ him’ve kind o’ got acquainted.  Dast you hold ’im that-a-way, doctor, ’thout no support to ‘is spinal colume?  I s’pose he is too sof’ to snap, but I wouldn’t resk it.  Reckon I can slip in the other do’ where she won’t see me, an’ view the meetin’.

Yas; I ‘m right here, honey! (The idea o’ her a-callin’ for me—­an’ him in ’er arms!) I ‘m right here, honey—­mother! Don’t min’ me a-cryin’!  I’m all broke up, somehow; but don’t you fret.  I ’m right here by yo’ side on my knees, in pure thankfulness.

Bless His name, I say!  You know he’s a boy, don’t yer?  I been a holdin’ ’im all day—­’t least ever sence they dressed ‘im, purty nigh a’ hour ago.  An’ he’s slep’—­an’ waked up—­an’ yawned—­an’ snez—­an’ wunk—­an’ sniffed—­’thout me sayin’ a word.  Opened an’ shet his little fist, once-t, like ez ef he craved to shake hands, howdy!  He cert’n’y does perform ’is functions wonderful.

Yas, doctor; I’m a-comin’, right now.

Go to sleep now, honey, you an’ him, an’ I’ll be right on the spot when needed.  Lemme whisper to her thess a minute, doctor?

I thess want to tell you, honey, thet you never, even in yo’ young days, looked ez purty to my eyes ez what you do right now.  An’ that boy is yo’ boy, an’ I ain’t a-goin’ to lay no mo’ claim to ’im ’n to see thet you have yo’ way with ‘im—­you hear?  An’ now good night, honey, an’ go to sleep.

* * * * *

They wasn’t nothin’ lef for me to do but to come out here in this ol’ woodshed where nobody wouldn’t see me ac’ like a plumb baby.

An’ now, seem like I can’t git over it!  The idee o’ me, fifty year ol’, actin’ like this!

An’ she knows it!  An’ she’s got ‘im—­a boy—­layin’ in the bed ’longside ’er.

“Mother an’ child doin’ well!” Lord, Lord!  How often I’ve heerd that said!  But it never give me the all-overs like it does now, some way.

Guess I’ll gether up a’ armful o’ wood, an’ try to act unconcerned—­an’ laws-a-mercy me!  Ef—­to-day—­ain’t—­been—­Christmas!  My! my! my!  An’ it come an’ gone befo’ I remembered!

I’ll haf to lay this wood down ag’in an’ think.

I’ve had many a welcome Christmas gif’ in my life, but the idee o’ the good Lord a-timin’ this like that!