y over for the daintiest of
baby shoes and the showiest of infant hats. Althea should have a nurse,
and a carriage, and a poodle dog. Santa Claus should not only give her
his choicest gifts at Christmas but should shower down toys every day in
the year. After a little, in another year, she would take her with her
to St. Mark's, where she should attract all eyes by her dress and
beauty.

That Althea had a soul to be trained, carefully guided and directed to
God, entered not into the calculations of this giddy, superficial
woman.

CHAPTER XII.

THE CHRISTENING.

A year afterward came little Johnny into the house of the Temples. Words
altogether fail to do justice to the mother's pride and joy.

Leonora, who wore proudly her husband's grand name of Van Rensaleer,
looked down on the Temples; nevertheless, as a duty, she called to
congratulate them upon the birth of a son.

"Yes, a fine babe," she replied to the father's questioning look of
admiration. "A nice baby, I dare say," she said in answer to Juliet's
glowing extolations, finished by a "do you not think so?" "But all
babies look alike to me," she added. "I fail to see the charm, I prefer
my poodle."

"Sour grapes," returned Juliet, her eyes flashing.

"Sweet grapes, my dear," said her sister, softly. "Well, I wish you much
joy, and may the child prove a blessing to you."

Then came Estelle. She was Mrs. Lang. She had married an Englishman, and
would have gotten along comfortably had she not been "worried to death"
with "those children." Hugh was now four years old, the twins two and
a-half, and Robby in his eleventh month. Four boys, and they kept the
house in commotion from one year's end to another.

To Juliet's joyful outbursts Estelle answered: "O, it is all very well
just now; I know all about it; but wait until you have four! Why, I
cannot get from the sound of their noise; it rings in my ears now. There
isn't a moment when I am not on the keen jump, expecting some limb to be
broken, some eye to be put out, or some dreadful disease to come around.
I dread the warm season on account of its summer-complaints; and the
cold for its croups, scarlet fevers, measles, and whooping cough. I warn
you, Juliet, you are seeing your happiest days." And Estelle, with a
weary look and dreary tone, took her departure for her luxurious, but
uproarious home.

"What are _you_ going to do with the baby?" asked Mr. Temple of the
little Althea.

"I yock it,"