ou, my dear sir; you are like a picture painted
out."

But I question whether he heard me. I returned to my home. Home! As if
one alone can build a nest. How often as I have ascended the stairs
that lead to my lonely, sumptuous rooms, have I paused to listen to
the hilarity of the servants below. That morning I could not rest: I
wandered from chamber to chamber, followed by my great dog, and all were
alike empty and desolate. I had nearly finished a cigar when I thought
I heard a pebble strike the window, and looking out I saw David's father
standing beneath. I had told him that I lived in this street, and I
suppose my lights had guided him to my window.

"I could not lie down," he called up hoarsely, "until I heard your news.
Is it all right?"

For a moment I failed to understand him. Then I said sourly: "Yes, all
is right."

"Both doing well?" he inquired.

"Both," I answered, and all the time I was trying to shut the window.
It was undoubtedly a kindly impulse that had brought him out, but I was
nevertheless in a passion with him.

"Boy or girl?" persisted the dodderer with ungentlemanlike curiosity.

"Boy," I said, very furiously.

"Splendid," he called out, and I think he added something else, but by
that time I had closed the window with a slam.

V. The Fight For Timothy

Mary's poor pretentious babe screamed continually, with a note of
exultation in his din, as if he thought he was devoting himself to a
life of pleasure, and often the last sound I heard as I got me out of
the street was his haw-haw-haw, delivered triumphantly as if it were
some entirely new thing, though he must have learned it like a parrot. I
had not one tear for the woman, but Poor father, thought I; to know that
every time your son is happy you are betrayed. Phew, a nauseous draught.

I have the acquaintance of a deliciously pretty girl, who is always
sulky, and the thoughtless beseech her to be bright, not witting wherein
lies her heroism. She was born the merriest of maids, but, being a
student of her face, learned anon that sulkiness best becomes it, and so
she has struggled and prevailed. A woman's history. Brave Margaret, when
night falls and thy hair is down, dost thou return, I wonder, to thy
natural state, or, dreading the shadow of indulgence, sleepest thou even
sulkily?

But will a male child do as much for his father? This remains to be
seen, and so, after waiting several months, I decided to buy David a
rocki