It was a pretty, healthy creature, fat, dainty and about two months
old, still in the whitest and finest of long clothes. "Little duck!"
Deb crooned, and rubbed her cheek almost with passion on its rose-leaf
skin. Robert's nose, indeed, was dislocated on the spot.

"Oh, Rosie," she presently blurted out, "I would like to have this
child!"

"Would you?" replied Rose, all smiles.

"No, but, seriously and without joking, I really would, you know."

"I daresay," laughed the plump little mother, and her laugh was echoed
by Keziah as she passed into the adjoining nursery--to leave the long
parted sisters to themselves.

"Now, look here," the guest addressed the hostess, thoughtfully and
deliberately, as soon as they were alone, "if you will give her to me,
I will bring her up and educate her as perfectly as care and money can
do it. She shall take the name of Pennycuick, and be my
daughter, and my heiress, and the future representative of the family.
And," she added, for her own inward ear, "we can live at home or
somewhere, if necessary, where Breens and such will not have the chance
to interfere with us."

"As if I would give my baby away," Rose sweetly jeered her--"even for
a kingdom!"

"You have five more, and may have another five--or twenty-five. It
looks like it."