“Oh, it’s alive,” cried Harold, half breathlessly, “I saw it move!” Then as a slight sound followed the movement, “A baby! a baby!” they all exclaim, “O, mammy, whose is it? where did you get it? oh, sit down and show it to us!”

“Why, chillen, I reckon it ’longs to us,” returned mammy, complying with the request, while they gathered closely about her with eager and delighted faces.

“Ours, mammy?  Then I’m glad it isn’t black or yellow like the babies down at the quarter,” said Harold, eying it with curiosity and interest.

“So am I too,” remarked Violet, “but it’s got such a red face and hardly any hair on the top of its head.”

“Well, don’t you remember that’s the way Herbie looked when he first came?” said Eddie.

“And he grew very white in a few weeks,” remarked Elsie.  “But is it mamma’s baby, mammy?”

“Yes, honey, dat it am; sho’s yer born, ’nother pet for ole mammy,—­de bressed little darlin’,” she answered, pressing the little creature to her breast.

The information was received with a chorus of exclamations of delight and admiration.

“Tate a bite of cacker, boy,” said Herbert, offering a cracker which he was eating with evident enjoyment.

Mammy explained, amid the good-natured laughter of the older children, that the newcomer had no teeth and couldn’t eat anything but milk.

“Oh, poor ’ittle fing!” he said, softly touching its velvet cheek.  “Won’t ’oo tum and pay wis Herbie?”

“No, it can’t play,” said Violet, “it can’t walk and it can’t talk.”

“Where’s mamma, mammy?” asked Eddie, glancing at the clock; “it’s past her time; I wonder too she didn’t come to show us the new baby herself.”

“She’s sick, chile,” returned mammy, a grave and anxious look coming into her old eyes.

“Mamma sick?” exclaimed little Elsie, “oh, may I go to her?”

Mammy shook her head.  “Not jes now, honey darlin’, byme by, when she’s bettah.”

“Mamma sick?” echoed Violet.  “Oh, I’m so, so sorry!”

“Don’t fret, chillen, de good Lord make her well again soon,” said mammy, with cheerful hopefulness, for she could not bear to see how sad each little face had grown, how the young lips quivered, and the bright eyes filled with tears; for dearly, dearly, they all loved their sweet, gentle mother.

“Herbie wants mamma,” sobbed the baby boy, clinging to his eldest sister.

“Don’t cry, pet,” Elsie said chokingly, hugging him close and kissing away his tears.  “We’ll all ask God to make her well, and I’m sure he will.”

“Why! why! what’s the matter here?” cried a cheery voice, as the door opened and Mr. Travilla stepped into their midst.  “What’s the matter with papa’s darlings?” he repeated, gathering them all into his arms, and caressing each in turn.

“Is mamma, dear mamma, very sick?” they asked, Vi immediately adding in joyous tones,