Certainly, when the baby did cry, William never could help hovering near the center of disturbance, and he always _had_ to remind Billy that it might be a pin, you know, or some cruel thing that was hurting.

As if he, William, a great strong man, could sit calmly by and smoke a pipe, or lie in his comfortable bed and sleep, while that blessed little baby was crying his heart out like that! Of course, if one did not _know_ he was crying--Hence William's anticipation of those quiet, restful nights when he could not know it.
Very soon after Billy's arrival at the cottage, Aunt Hannah and Alice Greggory came down for a day's visit.

Aunt Hannah had been away from Boston for several weeks, so it was some time since she had seen the baby.
"My, but hasn't he grown!" she exclaimed, picking the baby up and stooping to give him a snuggling kiss.

The next instant she almost dropped the little fellow, so startling had been Billy's cry.
"No, no, wait, Aunt Hannah, please," Billy was entreating, hurrying to the little corner cupboard.

In a moment she was back with a small bottle and a bit of antiseptic cotton.