So I started on an old Methodist tune, which I remembered very well, and which was used with the hymn containing the lines: "Weak and wounded, sick and sore," and I sang, as soothingly as I could: "Lit-tle Pat-sy, Wat-sy, Sat-sy, Does he feel a lit-ty bad?
Me will send and get his bot-tle He sha'n't have to cry-wy-wy." "What an idiot!" said Euphemia, laughing in spite of her vexation.
"No, we aint no id-i-otses What we want's a bot-ty mik." So I sang as I walked to the kitchen door, and sent Jonas to the barn for the bottle.
Pomona was in spasms of laughter in the kitchen, and Euphemia was trying her best not to laugh at all.
"Who's going to take care of it, I'd like to know ?" she said, as soon as she could get herself into a state of severe inquiry.
"Some-times me, and some-times Jonas," I sang, still walking up and down the room with a long, slow step, swinging the baby from side to side, very much as if it were grass-seed in a sieve, and I were sowing it over the carpet.
When the bottle came, I took it, and began to feed little Pat.

Perhaps the presence of a critical and interested audience embarrassed us, for Jonas and Pomona were at the door, with streaming eyes, while Euphemia stood with her handkerchief to the lower part of her face, or it may have been that I did not understand the management of bottles, but, at any rate, I could not make the thing work, and the disappointed little Pat began to cry, just as the whole of our audience burst into a wild roar of laughter.
"Here! Give me that child!" cried Euphemia, forcibly taking Pat and the bottle from me.

"You'll make it swallow the whole affair, and I'm sure its mouth's big enough." "You really don't think," she said, when we were alone, and little Pat, with his upturned blue eyes serenely surveying the features of the good lady who knew how to feed him, was placidly pulling away at his india-rubber tube, "that I will consent to your keeping such a creature as this in the house?
Why, he's a regular little Paddy! If you kept him he'd grow up into a hod-carrier." "Good!" said I."I never thought of that.

What a novel thing it would be to witness the gradual growth of a hod-carrier! I'll make him a little hod, now, to begin with.

He couldn't have a more suitable toy." "I was talking in earnest," she said.