baby.

James North was a simple gentleman, but not altogether a fool. He
returned the kiss, but not vicariously.

There was a footstep on the porch. These two turned the hues of a
dying dolphin, and then laughed. It was Joe. He held a newspaper
in his hand. "I reckon ye woz right, Mr. North, about my takin'
these yar papers reg'lar. For I allow here's suthin' that may clar
up the mystery o' that baby's parents." With the hesitation of a
slowly grappling intellect, Joe sat down on the table and read from
the San Francisco "Herald" as follows: "'It is now ascertained
beyond doubt that the wreck reported by the Aeolus was the American
brig Pomare bound hence to Tahiti. The worst surmises are found
correct. The body of the woman has been since identified as that
of the beau-ti-ful daughter of--of--of--Terp--Terp--Terpish'--Well!
I swow that name just tackles me."

"Gin it to me, Dad," said Bessy pertly. "You never had any
education, any way. Hear your accomplished daughter." With a mock
bow to the new schoolmaster, and a capital burlesque of a confident
school girl, she strode to the middle of the room the paper held
and folded book-wise in her hands. "Ahem! Where did you leave
off? Oh, 'the beautiful daughter of Terpsichore--whose name was
prom-i-nently connected with a mysterious social scandal of last
year--the gifted but unfortunate Grace Chatterton'--No--don't stop
me--there's some more! 'The body of her child, a lovely infant of
six months, has not been recovered, and it is supposed was washed
overboard.' There! may be that's the child, Mr. North. Why, Dad!
Look, O my God! He's falling. Catch him, Dad! Quick!"