He will probably, if he is a healthy child, say everything he
knows but that. He will go through his limited vocabulary in a
pathetically obliging manner, making the most beautiful "moo-moos
" and "quack-quacks," but he will not say, "Ta-ta." Why should
he? On persuasion, and more especially if the interview should
take place at a street-corner on a windy March day, he will repeat
the "moo-moos" and "quack-quacks" even more successfully than
before, and he will wonder in what way they fall short of
perfection, since he earns no praise. He likes to be rewarded
with, "Kevver boy." We all do, just as a matter of form, if
nothing else. Surely ordinary politeness demands it.

He will not say, "Ta-ta," though. Who knows but what it is innate
politeness on his part and his way of saying, "Oh, don't go! What
a flying visit!"

However, the professional aunt cannot be sure of this, although
she can guess; so she must wait patiently, for the sake of
Baby's morals and nurse's feelings, until he does say, "Ta-ta."
We may suppose that he at last loses his temper and says it,
meaning, no doubt, "For goodness sake, go!" if not something
stronger. The nurse is satisfied, the aunt is released, and the
conscientious objector is wheeled away.

Besides ministering to the soul of a baby the aunt must tend to
its bodily needs, and for this reason she must be a good
needlewoman.

Before the arrival of the first nephew or niece, when she is very
unprofessional, she will hastily put her work under the sofa or