The child's face--pink mouth and blue eyes, both wide open--hung upon him in a fixed expectancy.
'She does like it so--the little greedy puss! It won't do her any harm.' But the mother persisted.

Then the child cried, and the father and mother wrangled over it, till Fenwick caught up the babe by Phoebe's peremptory directions and carried it away upstairs.

At the door of the little parlour, while Phoebe was at his shoulder, wiping away the child's tears and cooing to it, Fenwick suddenly turned his head and kissed his wife's cheek, or rather her pretty ear, which presented itself.

Miss Anna, still at table, laughed discreetly behind their backs--the laugh of the sweet-natured old maid.
When the child was asleep upstairs, Phoebe and the little servant cleared away while Fenwick and Miss Anna read the newspaper, and talked on generalities.

In this talk Phoebe had no share, and it might have been noticed by one who knew them well, that in his conversation with Miss Mason, Fenwick became another man.