"Is Auntie Cissy goin' to have a little boy-baby, or a little girl-baby, uncle?"
"Oh, don't ask silly questions; she hasn't made up her mind yet."
"Oh, oh! I think I should 'vise her to have a little girl, 'cause little girls ain't so much trouble as boys, is they? Which would you 'vise her to have, uncle?"
"Will you go on with your bricks, and not talk about things you don't understand? We're not supposed to talk about those sort of things at all. It isn't proper."
"What isn't p'oper? Ain't babies p'oper?"
"No; very improper, especially some of them."
"'Umph! then what's people have 'em for, if they isn't p'oper?"
"Will you go on with your bricks, or will you not? How much oftener am I to speak to you, I wonder? People can't help having them. They are sent to chasten us; to teach us what a worrying, drive-you-mad sort of world this is, and we have to put up with them. But there's no need to talk about them."
There was silence for a few minutes, and then came:
"Does Uncle Henry know? He'll be her puppa, won't he?"
"Eh! What? Know what? What are you talking about now?"
"Does Uncle Henry know 'bout this baby that Auntie Cissy's goin' to have?"
"Yes, of course, you little idiot!—Does Uncle Henry know!"
"Yes—I s'pose they'd tell him, 'cause, you see, he'll have to pay for it, won't he?"
"Well, nobody else will if he doesn't."
