“Mama busy; mama sing.”

With a cry she sprang from the piano and, bounding to the door, flung it open and caught her child in her arms.

“Darling! darling! my darling!” she exclaimed in a burst of mother-rapture, crushing the child to her breast and kissing it repeatedly.

Then she began to dance, holding the baby in her arms and humming a waltz.  As I stood on one side in my own mood of excited sympathy, I caught fleeting glimpses of their two faces, as she went whirling about.  Hers was beautiful in her new relief—­if it was a relief—­the child’s dimpled with delight at the rapid movement—­a lovely picture.  Letty, who stood waiting in the doorway, showed a countenance full of surprise.  Mrs. Packard was the first to feel tired.  Stopping her dance, she peered round at the baby’s face and laughed.

“Was that good?” she asked.  “Are you glad to have mama merry again?  I am going to be merry all the time now.  With such a dear, dear dearie of a baby, how can I help it?” And whirling about in my direction, she held up the child for inspection, crying:  “Isn’t she a darling!  Do you wonder at my happiness?”

Indeed I did not; the sweet baby-face full of glee was irresistible; so was the pat-pat of the two dimpled hands on her mother’s shoulders.  With a longing all women can understand, I held out my own arms.

“I wonder if she will come to me?” said I.

But though I got a smile, the little hands closed still more tightly round the mother’s neck.

“Mama dear!” she cried, “mama dear!” and the tender emphasis on the endearing word completed the charm.  Tears sprang to Mrs. Packard’s eyes, and it was with difficulty that she passed the clinging child over to the nurse waiting to take her out.

“That was the happiest moment of my life!” fell unconsciously from Mrs. Packard’s lips as the two disappeared; but presently, meeting my eyes, she blushed and made haste to remark: 

“I certainly did Mr. Steele an arrant injustice.  He was very respectful; I wonder how I ever got the idea he could be anything else.”

Anxious myself about this very fact, I attempted to reply, but she gave me no opportunity.

“And now for those dinner invitations!” she gaily suggested.  “While I feel like it I must busy myself in making out my list.  It will give me something new to think about.”

CHAPTER XVIII

THE TWO WEIRD SISTERS

Ellen seemed to understand my anxiety about Mrs. Packard and to sympathize with it.  That afternoon as I passed her in the hall she whispered softly: 

“I have just been unpacking that bag and putting everything back into place.  She told me she had packed it in readiness to go with Mr. Packard if he desired it at the last minute.”

I doubted this final statement, but the fact that the bag had been unpacked gave me great relief.  I began to look forward with much pleasure to a night of unbroken rest.