hat a pity, when it might just as well
have looked like her.

Babcock, on his part, was transported by paternity. He was bubbling over
with appreciation of the new baby, and fondly believed it to be a human
wonder. He was solicitous on the score of its infantile ailments, and
loaded it with gifts and toys beyond the scope of its enjoyment. He went
about the house whistling more exuberantly than ever. There was no speck
on his horizon; no fly in his pot of ointment. It was he who urged that
the child should be christened promptly, though Dr. Glynn was not
disposed to dwell on the clerical barbarism as to the destiny of
unbaptized infants. Babcock was cultivating a conservative method: He
realized that there was no object in taking chances. Illogical as was
the theory that a healthy dog which had bitten him should be killed at
once, lest it subsequently go mad and he contract hydrophobia, he was
too happy and complacent to run the risk of letting it live. So it was
with regard to baby. But Selma chose the name. Babcock preferred in this
order another Selma, Sophia, after his mother, or a compliment to the
wife of the President of the United States. But Selma, as the result of
grave thought, selected Muriel Grace. Without knowing exactly why, she
asked Mrs. Taylor to be godmother. The ceremony was solemn and inspiring
to her. She knew from the glass in her room that she was looking very
pretty. But she was weak and emotional. The baby behaved admirably, even
when Lewis, trembling with pride, held it out to Mr. Glynn for baptism
and held it so that the blood rushed to its head. "I baptize thee in the
name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost." She was happy and the
tears were in her eyes. The divine blessing was upon her and her house,
and, after all, baby was a darling and her husband a kind, manly soul.
With the help of heaven she would prove herself their good angel.

When they returned home there was a whistle of old silver of light,
graceful design, a present from Mrs. Taylor to Muriel. Her aunt, Mrs.
Farley, compared this to its disparagement with one already purchased by
Lewis, on the gaudily embossed stem of which perched a squirrel with a
nut in its mouth. But Selma shook her head. "Both of you are wrong," she
said with authority. "This is a beauty."

"It doesn't look new to my eyes," protested Mrs. Parley.

"Of course it isn't new. I shouldn't wonder if she bought it while
travelling abroad in Europe. It'