was fussy the rest of the afternoon, whereas if Irene had only left him alone he would not have been a bit of trouble. Irene looked at him and said,
“‘Does he often cry like that?’—as if she had never heard a baby crying before.
“I explained patiently that children have to cry so many minutes per day in order to expand their lungs. Morgan says so.
“‘If Jims didn’t cry at all I'd have to make him cry for at least twenty minutes,’ I said.
“‘ Oh, indeed!’ said Irene, laughing as if she didn’t believe me. ‘Morgan on the Care of Infants’ was upstairs or I would soon have convinced her. Then she said Jims didn’t have much hair—she had never seen a four months’ old baby so bald.
“Of course, I knew Jims hadn’t much hair—yet; but Irene said it in a tone that seemed to imply it was my fault that he hadn’t any hair. I said I had seen dozens of babies every bit as bald as Jims, and Irene said, Oh, very well, she hadn't meant to offend me—when I wasn’t offended.
“It went on like that the rest of the hour—Irene kept giving me little digs all the time. The girls have always said she was revengeful like that if she were peeved about anything; but I never believed it before; I used to think Irene just perfect, and it hurt me dreadfully to find she could stoop to this. But I corked up my feelings and sewed away for dear life on a Belgian child’s nightgown.
“Then Irene told me the meanest, most contemptible thing that some one had said about Walter. I won't write it down—I can’t. Of course, she said it made her furious to hear it and all that—but there was no
