Think of it--wind on his stomach! Just as if I didn't know the difference between my own baby's smile and wind on his stomach! And you don't know how soon he began to follow my moving finger with his eyes!" "Yes, I tried that one day, I remember," observed Aunt Hannah demurely.
"I moved my finger.

He looked at the ceiling--_fixedly_." "Well, probably he _wanted_ to look at the ceiling, then," defended the young mother, promptly.

"I'm sure I wouldn't give a snap for a baby if he didn't sometimes have a mind of his own, and exercise it!" "Oh, Billy, Billy," laughed Aunt Hannah, with a shake of her head as Billy turned away, chin uptilted.
By the time Bertram, Jr., was three months old, Billy was unmistakably her old happy, merry self, strong and well.

Affairs at the Strata once more were moving as by clockwork--only this time it was a baby's hand that set the clock, and that wound it, too.
Billy told her husband very earnestly that now they had entered upon a period of Enormous Responsibility.

The Life, Character, and Destiny of a Human Soul was intrusted to their care, and they must be Wise, Faithful, and Efficient.