“Little John,” as they came to call him,—­because his grave and dignified manners seemed to render inappropriate both “Johnny” and “Jack,”—­had securely established himself in the affections of his foster-parents before the end of a week.  He was a mine of entertainment.  Literature and art languished in the house, while the Lindsays amused themselves in playing with their baby or in discussing his good qualities and in planning for his future.  And now when they went about among their married friends they not only felt themselves en rapport, but considered that they occupied a position of decided superiority, for everybody conceded that there was no more lovely and winning child in St. Louis than little John Lindsay; and when people spoke only of other children than their own, they frankly admitted that they never had seen such a wonderful boy.  It was one of his characteristics that he never cried in good, sober earnest.  Upon rare occasions he would sob a little over a delayed repast, a bumped nose, or some other tribulation incident to his age, but he was extremely susceptible to argument, and could always be restored to his normal tranquillity by a proper explanation of the case.  To be sure, he was a picture of health, and seldom had occasion for tears on the score of ailments; but it should be remembered, as Mrs, Doly, the nurse, proudly claimed, that babies are very apt to cry when there is nothing the matter with them.

“Oh, Mrs. Doly,” Ellen exclaimed one morning, when by some means or other Little John had specially excited her admiration, “what a lovely woman his mother must have been!  How I wish I might have known her before she died!  Sometimes I feel as if it cannot be right for me to have this dear little baby without her consent.”

Not long after this it suddenly occurred to her that some legal steps ought probably to be taken in order that Little John might be secure against all demands.  She went to Edward in alarm, and felt no peace again until he reported compliance with every necessary formality.

When hot weather arrived, Edward decided to allow himself a short vacation, —­an indulgence which the exactions of business had hitherto prohibited every year since his marriage.  As to where the precious time should be spent there was but one opinion in the Lindsay household:  they would go East and rent a little cottage on the sea-shore at Marant, where they had passed several summers as children, and where the salt air would do much for Little John’s development, as it had done for their own not so very many years ago.  Edward wrote to one of his correspondents at Boston, requesting him to secure suitable quarters; and, when June was a fortnight old, they moved into a comfortable cottage at Marant, after a flying trip without incident from St. Louis.