so innocent it must be good that you should love and guard him."

'Twas sweet to see the wit she showed in giving to poor Anne the feeling
that she shared her motherhood. She shared her tenderest cares and
duties with her. Together they bathed and clad the child in the morning,
this being their high festival, in which the nurses shared but in the
performance of small duties. Each day they played with him and laughed
as women will at such dear times, kissing his grand round limbs, crying
out at their growth, worshipping his little rosy feet, and smothering him
with caresses. And then they put him to sleep, Anne sitting close while
his mother fed him from her breast until his small red mouth parted and
slowly released her.

When he could toddle about and was beginning to say words, there was a
morning when she bore him to Anne's tower that they might joy in him
together, as was their way. It was a beautiful thing to see her walk
carrying him in the strong and lovely curve of her arm as if his sturdy
babyhood were of no more weight than a rose, and he cuddling against her,
clinging and crowing, his wide brown eyes shining with delight.

"He has come to pay thee court, Anne," she said. "He is a great gallant,
and knows how we are his loving slaves. He comes to say his new word
that I have taught him."

She set him down where he stood holding to Anne's knee and showing his
new pearl teeth, in a rosy grin; his mother knelt beside him, beginning
her coaxing.

"Who is she?" she said, pointing with her finger at Anne's face, her own
full of lovely fear lest the child should not speak rightly his lesson.
"What is her name? Mammy's man say--" and she mumbled softly with her
crimson mouth at his ear.

The child looked up at Anne, with baby wit and laughter in his face, and
stammered sweetly--

"Muz--Muzzer--Anne," he said, and then being pleased with his cleverness,
danced on his little feet and said it over and over.

Clorinda caught him up and set him on Anne's lap.

"Know you what he calls you?" she said. "'Tis but a mumble, his little
tongue is not nimble enough for clearness, but he says it his pretty
best. 'Tis Mother Anne, he says--'tis Mother Anne."

And then they were in each other's arms, the child between them, he
kissing both and clasping both, with little laughs of joy as if they were
but one creature.

Each child born they clasped and kissed so, and were so clasped and
kissed by; each one callin