talk yet.
Maybe in time I could learn this ittums-tweetums stuff, but I doubt it.
Always made me sick, that did; and one of the things Vee and I agreed on
was that----"

"Oh, very well," says Auntie. "I do not intend to interfere in any way."

As if she could help it! Why, say, she'd give St. Peter advice on
gate-keepin'. But for the time bein', each of us havin' had our say, we
calls it a draw and gets back to what looks like a peace footin'. But
from then on I knew she had her eyes out at me. Every move I made was
liable to get her breathin' short or set her squirmin' in her chair. And
you know how it's apt to be in a case like that. I made more breaks than
ever. I'd forget about the youngster bein' asleep and cut loose with
something noisy at the wrong time. Or I'd jolt her some other way.

But she held in until, one night after dinner, when the baby had
indulged in too much day sleepin' and was carryin' on a bit, I takes a
notion to soothe him with a few humorous antics while Auntie is safe
downstairs. You see, I'd never been able to get him to take any notice
of me before; but this time, after I'd done a swell imitation of a Fred
Stone dance, I had him cooin' approvin', the nurse smotherin' a smile,
and Vee snickerin'.

Naturally, I has to follow it up with something else. I was down on my
hands and knees doin' a buckin' bronco act across the floor, when there
comes this gasp from the doorway. It seems Auntie was passin' by, and
peeked in. Her eyebrows go up, her mouth corners come down, and she
stiffens like she'd grabbed a high-voltage feed wire. I saw it comin',
but the best I can do is steady myself on my fingers and toes and wish I
had cotton in my ears.

"Really!" says she. "Are you never to realize, young man, that you are
now supposed to be a husband and a father?"

And, before I can shoot back a word, she's sailed on, her chin in the
air and her mouth about as smilin' as a crack in a vinegar bottle. But
she'd said it. She'd pushed it home, too. And the worst of it was, I
couldn't deny that she had the goods on me. I might pass as a husband,
if you didn't expect too much. But as for the rest--well, I knew I
wasn't meetin' the specifications.

The only model I could think of was them fond parent groups you see in
the movie close-ups--mother on the right, father at the left, and Little
Bright Eyes squeezed in between and bein' mauled affectionate. Had we
ever indulged in any such family clinch? Not u