clouds of green and more bushes had blossomed. Eudora had put on a green silk dress of her youth. The revolving fashions had made it very passable, and the fabric was as beautiful as ever.
When Lawton presented her with the roses she pinned one in the yellowed lace which draped her bodice and put the rest in a great china vase on the table. The roses were very fragrant, and immediately the whole room was possessed by them.
A tiny, insistent cry came from a corner, and Lawton and Eudora turned toward it. There stood the old wooden cradle in which Eudora had been rocked to sleep, but over the clumsy hood Eudora had tacked a fall of rich old lace and a great bow of soft pink satin.
“He is waking up,” said the man, in a hushed, almost reverent voice.
Eudora nodded. She went toward the cradle, and the man followed. She lifted the curtain of lace, and there became visible little feebly waving pink arms and hands, like tentacles of love, and a little puckered pink face which was at once ugly and divinely beautiful.
“A fine boy,” said the man. The baby made a grimace at him which was hideous but lovely.
“I do believe he thinks he knows you,” said Eudora, foolishly.
The baby made a little nestling motion, and its creasy eyelids dropped.
“Looks to me as if he was going to sleep again,” said Lawton, in a whisper. Eudora jogged the cradle gently with her foot, and both were still. Then Eudora dropped the lace veil over the cradle again and moved softly away.
Lawton followed her. “I haven’t my answer yet, Eudora,” he whispered, leaning over her shoulder as she moved.
“Come into the other room,” she murmured, “or we shall wake the baby.” Her voice was softly excited.
Eudora led the way into the parlor, upon whose walls hung some really good portraits and whose furnishings still merited the adjective magnificent. There had been opulence in the Yates family; and in this room, which had been conserved, there was still undimmed and unfaded evidence of it. Eudora drew aside a brocade curtain and
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