"
"Well, she is the angel, then, whoever she is," Mrs. Royal insisted,
"and perhaps she will come for the baby to-morrow."
"Oh, do you think so, Martha?" and there was a note of anxiety in the
parson's voice. "How nice it would be to keep it."
"Why do you say 'it,' Daniel? Why don't you say 'her'?"
"I never knew before that it was a 'her,'" and the parson chuckled as
he stroked his clean-shaven chin with the fingers of his right hand.
"You didn't?" and his wife looked her surprise. "Why, any one who has
the least knowledge of babies can tell a boy from a girl at the first
glance. There is always a marked difference in the way they behave."
"Ah, is that so, dear?"
"Certainly. A boy as a rule is cranky when he wakes. But do you
notice how good natured this baby is? and how she lies so quietly in my
lap, looking wonderingly into the fire? And notice how delicately she
is formed; how perfect her face; how slight her neck, and how tiny her
arms and hands. Oh, it is always easy for a woman to tell which is
which."
"What shall we call her, Martha?" and Parson Dan drew up his chair and
sat down.
"I have been thinking of that, Daniel, but have not decided yet. I
always liked Deborah; it is such a good strong name.
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