Grizel," he begged her. "You taught me, long ago, what was the right
thing to say about babies, and how could I be sure it was you until I
saw your arms rocking?"

"It was so like you," she said reproachfully, "to try to make me do
it."

"It was so unlike you," he replied craftily, "to let me succeed. And,
after all, Grizel, if I was horrid in the old days I always
apologized."

"Never!" she insisted.

"Well, then," said Tommy, handsomely, "I do so now"; and then they
both laughed gaily, and I think Grizel was not sorry that there was a
little of the boy who had been horrid left in Tommy--just enough to
know him by.

"He'll be vain," her aged maid, Maggy Ann, said curiously to her that
evening. They were all curious about Tommy.

"I don't know that he is vain," Grizel replied guardedly.

"If he's no vain," Maggy Ann retorted, "he's the first son of Adam it
could be said o'. I jalouse it's his bit book."

"He scarcely mentioned it."

"Ay, then, it's his beard."