assizes a
previous conviction was proved against her husband, and he got five
years penal servitude and, after the trial was over, the matter
passed out of the minds of both husband and wife.

They had, indeed, other matters to think about for, soon after
Christmas, a baby boy was born, and monopolized the greater portion
of his mother's thoughts. When, in due time, he was taken out for
walks, the old women of the village--perhaps with an eye to
presents from the Park--were unanimous in declaring that he was the
finest boy ever seen, and the image both of his father and mother.

He certainly was a fine baby; and his mother lamented sorely over
the fact that he had a dark blood mark, about the size of a
three-penny piece, upon his shoulder. Her husband, however,
consoled her by pointing out that--as it was a boy--the mark did
not matter in the slightest; whereas--had it been a girl--the mark
would have been a disfigurement, when she attained to the dignified
age at which low dresses are worn.

"Yes, of course, that would have been dreadful, Robert. Still, you
know, it is a pity."

"I really cannot see that it is even a pity, little woman; and it
would have made no great difference if he had been spotted all
over, like a leopard, so that his face and arms were free. The only
drawback would have been he would have got some nickname or other,
such as 'the Leopard,' or 'Spotty,' or something of that sort, when
he went to bathe with his school fellows. But this little spot does
not matter, in the slightest.

"Some day or other Tom will laugh, when I tell him what a fuss you
made over it."

Mrs. Ripon was silenced but, although she said nothing more about
it, she was grieved in her heart at this little blemish on her boy;
and lamented that it would spoil his appearance, when he began to
run about in little short frocks; and she determined, at once, that
he should wear long curls, until he got into jackets.

Summer, autumn, and winter came and passed. In the spring, Tom
Ripon was toddling about; but he had not yet begun to talk,
although his mother declared that certain incoherent sounds, which
he made, were quite plain and distinct words; but her husband,
while willing to allow that they might be perfectly intelligible to
her, insisted that--to the male ear--they in no way resembled
words.

"But he ought to begin to talk, Robert," his wife urged. "He is
sixteen months old, now, and can run about quite well. He rea