the little hired girl on the front seat with the groom, and sat in the
body of the waggonette to talk to Guthrie and to take care of his
child. There was no awkward shyness on her part now, and no boredom on
his. Little Harry fused them. She had remembered to bring fresh milk
and rusks for a possibly hungry baby, and he sat on her lap as she fed
him, and cooed to her when his mouth was not too full, and seemed to
forget that any other foster-mother had ever existed. His father's
relieved and astonished pleasure in the sight was only equalled by
Mary's pleasure in seeing his pleasure. "Isn't he a jolly little
cuss, Miss Pennycuick?" "He is a perfect darling," crooned Mary,
kissing him.

And, in fact, Harry Carey was a fine, clean, wholesome child, as worthy
of his old family as any born under the ancestral roof.

Mary shouldered him as if he belonged to her when they arrived at
Redford, shortly before the dinner hour.

"Now, Mr Carey, you must go to the bachelors' quarters, I am sorry to
say; but he will not miss you, since you have been away from him for so
long. He knows me now," said Mary proudly, "and I will take charge of
him. You may safely leave him to us now."

"Indeed, yes, I know that," said the thankful parent, and hastened to
his new quarters to receive the greetings and chaffings of the young
bachelors, and to dress himself for dinner, while Mary carried the baby
into the house, calling on Keziah Moon to come to her, the inadequate
nurse-girl trailing at her heels.

The house party gathered in the glazed corridor of the "middle part"--