Mrs. John's voice could be heard, and a man's voice. The man might have been the milkman, or a book agent. The only thing that could have led one to believe him something else was the fact that when one first heard his voice it was loud and confident, but that immediately after Mrs. John had spoken it was greatly lowered.
Presently Mrs. John returned. She had a queer look in her eyes. They looked at once pleased and defiant.
More conversation; more awkward silences. Edward was miserably uncomfortable. Then mommer called from "out back" that she wanted to come in. And everybody went to help the blind woman get baby's carriage up the back steps. Baby was asleep. There were two dirty white veils over his face.
Edward dramatized the situation. A father who had never seen his child . . . Mrs. John lifted the veils. And both John and Edward, looking into the carriage at the sleeping child, were immeasurably shocked. Edward was shocked into speech.
"He doesn't look one bit like either of you," he said. "He looks exactly like his Uncle James."
Edward seemed to be busy looking at the child. Mrs. John took the opportunity to give John a
