By some subtle process she contrived to imbue the baby also with this
idea. The child never seemed to me to take either of us quite seriously.
She would play with us, or join with us in light conversation; but when
it came to the serious affairs of life, such as bathing or feeding, she
preferred her nurse.

Ethelbertha attempted to take her out in the perambulator one morning,
but the child would not hear of it for a moment.

"It's all right, baby dear," explained Ethelbertha soothingly. "Baby's
going out with mamma this morning."

"Oh no, baby ain't," was baby's rejoinder, in effect if not in words.
"Baby don't take a hand in experiments--not this baby. I don't want to
be upset or run over."

Poor Ethel! I shall never forget how heart-broken she was. It was the
want of confidence that wounded her.

But these are reminiscences of other days, having no connection with the
days of which I am--or should be--writing; and to wander from one matter
to another is, in a teller of tales, a grievous sin, and a growing custom
much to be condemned. Therefore I will close my eyes to all other
memories, and endeavour to see only that little white and green houseboat
by the ferry, which was the scene of our future collaborations.

Houseboats then were not built to the scale of Mississippi steamers, but
this boat was a small one, even for that primitive age. The man from
whom we hired it described it as "compact." The man to whom, at the end