Juliet only wrung her hands and laughed the more.  “It’s too funny,” she panted at last; “but I’m sure if Fanny said it about Elizabeth it was true—­she never tells stories.”  Then she rippled off again.  “Oh, my poor Dudley!  How does he endure it?  Why, Ben would ship the babies off to boarding school if I attempted this.”

“Dudley tries to be good about it,” replied Eugenia, “but he hates it awfully.”

Juliet went by, and Eugenia kept up her slow promenade until Dudley came up to dinner.  Then she followed him into the house and upstairs to her room, where he turned upon her reproachfully: 

“I say, Eugie, I wish you’d stop this sort of thing.  It isn’t fair to me, you know.”

“How absurd, Dudley!”

“But it isn’t.  People will begin to say that I’m bankrupt or a beast.  If you will go parading round like this, for heaven’s sake hire a servant or two to follow after; it’ll look more decent.”

Eugenia’s response was far from satisfactory, and the next morning, before going to his office, he drew Miss Chris aside and unburdened himself into her sympathetic ear.  “You don’t think Eugie’s a—­a—­exactly crazy, do you, Aunt Chris?” he wound up with, for Miss Chris was on his side, and he knew it.

“I don’t wonder you ask, Dudley, I really don’t,” was her comforting rejoinder.  “Why, she actually had the face to tell me yesterday that I’d never had any children, so I couldn’t advise her.  It is provoking.  I don’t pretend to deny it.”

Dudley took up his hat and carefully examined the inside lining.  “Well, I’ll settle it,” he said at last, and went out.

The next day, when Eugenia went upstairs from dinner, she found Delphy in a nurse’s cap and apron, installed in a low chair before the fire, jolting the baby on her knees with a peculiar rhythmic motion.

Eugenia fell back, regarding her with blank amazement.  “Why, Delphy, where did you come from?” she exclaimed.  “I didn’t know you were in service.  Whom are you nursing for?”

Delphy responded with a passive nod.  “I’se nussin’ for Marse Dudley,” she retorted.

“But I don’t want a nurse, Delphy.  I take care of the baby myself.  I like to do it.”

Delphy kept up her drowsy jolting, shaking at the same time an unrelenting head.  “Go ‘long wid you, honey,” she returned.  “I ain’ oner yo’ new-come niggers.  I’se done riz mo’ chillun den you’se got teef in yo’ haid, en I ain’ gwine ter have Marse Dudley’s chile projecked wid ‘fo’ my eyes.  You ain’ no mo’ fitten ter nuss dis chile den Marse Dudley hisse’f is.”

“O Delphy!” gasped Eugenia reproachfully.  She made a dart at the baby, but he raised a shrill protest, which caused her hopelessly to desist.  “O Delphy, you’ve come between us!” she cried.

“I ’low ef I hadn’t you’d ‘a’ run plum crazy,” was Delphy’s justification.  “Dis yer chile’s my bizness, en yourn it’s down yonder in de parlour wid Marse Dudley.”