“Tell me her name,” I said.

“Oh! guess it,” said Mary.

“Your own?”

“No, no, you can never guess, for we called her Althea, after kind Mrs. Goodwin, who nursed me so tenderly, and Emily, for another lady we know”—­and she looked at me with her bright eyes, while an arch smile played over her face.  I only kissed the face of the beautiful child, and Louis said: 

“My Emily’s name is fit for the daughter of a king.  God bless the little namesake,” and Althea Emily gave utterance to a protracted “goo,” which meant, of course, yes.

You should have heard her talk, though, when Matthias came over to see “Miss Molly.”

“Come shufflin’ over to see you,” he said, “an’ O my! but aint she jest as pooty.  O”—­and at this moment she realized his presence, both her little hands were stretched forth in welcome, and “ah goo! ah goo!” came a hundred times from her sweet mouth as she tried to spring out of her mother’s lap.

“Take her, Matthias,” I said.

“Wall, wall, she ’pears as ef she know me, Miss Emily—­reckon she’s got a mammy down thar.”

“She has, indeed,” said Mary, “and I know she will miss Mammy Lucy.  She was my nurse, and she cried bitterly when we left, but I do not need her, Allie is just nothing to care for, and I like to be with her myself, for I am her mother, you know,” she added proudly.

“I mus’ know that ole Mammy Lucy, doesn’t I, Miss Molly?”

“Certainly you do, Matthias, and she has sent a bandanna turban for your wife, and a pair of knitted gloves for you.  She told me to say she didn’t forget you, and was mighty glad for your freedom.  Father long since gave her her’s and she has quite a sum of money of her own.”

All this time white baby fingers were pawing Matthias’ face, as if in pity, and losing their little tips among his woolly hair.

When he rose to leave she cried bitterly, and turning back he said: 

“Kin I tote her over to see Peg to-morrer?”

“Oh! yes,” said Mary “give her my love and tell her I am coming over.”

“Look out for breakers,” said Aunt Hildy, when she saw the child, “this house’ll be a bedlam now, but then we were all as leetle as that once, I spos’e,” and her duty evidently spoke at that moment, saying, “You must bear with it.”  But she was not troubled.

Allie never troubled us, she was as sweet and sunny as a May morning all through, and even went to meeting and behaved herself admirably.  She never said a word till the service ended, when she uttered one single “goo” as if well pleased.  Aunt Hildy said at the supper-table she didn’t believe any such thing ever happened before in the annals of our country’s history,

“She’s the best baby I ever see.  Wish she’d walk afore you leave.”

“She has never deigned to creep,” said Mary; “the first time I tried to have her, she looked at me and then at her dress as if to say, “That isn’t nice,” and could not be coaxed to crawl.  She hitches along instead, and even that is objectionable.  I imagine some nice morning she will get right up and walk.”  At that moment Allie threw back her head of dainty yellow rings, and laughed heartily, as if she knew what we said.