“I am sure you are very happy in not having children,” continued she, as the cries of the little sufferer reached her ear; “I hope to goodness I shall never have any more.  I wonder if anybody ever had twin daughters before, and I, too, who hate girls so!”

Mrs Douglas, disgusted with her unfeeling folly, knew not what to reply, and a pause ensued; but afresh burst of cries from the unfortunate baby again called forth its mother’s indignation.

“I wish to goodness that child was gagged,” cried she, holding her hands to her ears.  “It has done nothing but scream since the hour it was born, and it makes me quite sick to hear it.”

“Poor little dear!” said Mrs. Douglas compassionately, “it appears to suffer a great deal.”

“Suffer!” repeated her sister-in-law; “what can it suffer?  I am sure it meets with a great deal attention than any person in the house.  These three old women do nothing but feed it from morning to night, with everything they can think of, and make such a fuss about it!”

“I suspect, my dear sister, you would be very sorry for yourself,” said Mrs. Douglas, with a smile, “were you to endure the same treatment as your poor baby; stuffed with improper food and loathsome drugs, and bandied about from one person to another.”

“You may say what you please,” retorted Lady Juliana pettishly; “but I know it’s nothing but ill temper:  nurse says so too; and it is so ugly with constantly crying that I cannot bear to look at it;” and she turned away her head as Miss Jacky entered red with the little culprit in her arms, which she was vainly endeavouring to talk into silence, while she dandled it in the most awkward maiden-like manner imaginable.

“Good heavens! what a fright!” exclaimed the tender parent, as her child was held up to her.  “Why, it is much less than when it was born, an its skin is as yellow as saffron, and it squints!  Only look what a difference,” as the nurse advanced and ostentatiously displayed her charge, who had just waked out of a long sleep; its checks flushed with heat; its skin completely filled up; and its large eyes rolling under its already dark eyelashes.

“The bonny wean’s just her mamma’s pickter,” drawled out the nurse, “but the wee missy’s uncolike her aunties.”

“Take her away,” cried Lady Juliana in a tone of despair; “I wish I could send her out of my hearing altogether, for her noise will be the death of me.”

“Alas! what would I give to hear the blessed sound of a living child!” exclaimed Mrs. Douglas, taking the infant in her arms.  “And how great would be my happiness could I call the poor rejected one mine!”

“I’m sure you are welcome to my share of the little plague,” said her sister-in-law, with a laugh, “if you can prevail upon Harry to give up his.”

“I would give up a great deal could my poor child find a mother,” replied her husband, who just then entered.