all which round about did ly.
Yet thus it was!..."

"I don't think you'd understand the rest of that verse, Thomas; it's
rather more difficult. 'Yet thus it was!' We'll end there, and have our
tea."

Turning his head he saw that Lucy had come in and was standing behind
him, looking over his shoulder at Thomas in his crib.

"Oh, Lucy," he said, "I'm reading to Thomas. Thomas is that. Do you like
him? He is surprised at life, but quite pleased. He that was _Nothing_
from Eternity did little think such Joys to celebrate or see. Yet thus it
is. He is extraordinarily happy about it all, but he can't do anything
yet, you know--not speak or sit up or anything. He can only make noises,
and cry, and drink, and slither about in his bath like a piece of wet
soap. Wasn't there a clergyman once who thought his baby ought to be
baptised by immersion unless it was proved not well able to endure it,
as it says in the rubric or somewhere, so he put it in a tub to try if
it could endure it or not, and he let it loose by accident and couldn't
catch it again, it was so slippery, just like a horrid little fish, and
its mother only came in and got hold of it just in time to prevent its
being drowned? So after that he felt he could honestly certify that the
child couldn't well endure immersion. I'm getting better at catching
Thomas, though. He isn't supposed to slip off my hand at all, but he
kicks and slithers so I can't hold him, and swims away and gets lost.
After tea will you come and help me wash him? Rhoda's out to tea; I'm so
sorry. But there's tea, and Thomas and Algernon and me, and--and rather
thick bread and butter only, apparently; but I shall have jam now you've
come. First I must adjust Thomas's drinking-bottle; he always likes a
drink while we have our tea. He's two months old. Is he good for that,
do you think, or should he be a size larger? But I rather like them
small, don't you? They're lighter so, for one thing. Is he nice? Do you
like him?"

Lucy, kneeling by the crib, nodded.

"He's very old and wise, Peter; very old and gay. Look at his eyes. He's
much--oh very much--older than you or me. That's as it should be."

"He'll rejuvenate with years, won't he?" said Peter. "At present he's
too old to laugh when I make jokes; he thinks them silly; but he'll be
sillier than anyone himself in about six months, I expect. Now we'll have
tea."

Lucy left Thomas and came to the tea-table and poured out tea for both of
the