Shirley, Nan, and Di did
not tease her as much as she had expected. They all seemed rather
stunned by the mere fact of Rilla adopting a war-baby; perhaps, too, the
doctor had issued instructions. Walter, of course, never had teased her
over anything; one day he told her she was a brick.
"It took more courage for you to tackle that five pounds of new infant,
Rilla-my-Rilla, than it would be for Jem to face a mile of Germans. I
wish I had half your pluck," he said ruefully.
Rilla was very proud of Walter's approval; nevertheless, she wrote
gloomily in her diary that night:--
"I wish I could like the baby a little bit. It would make things easier.
But I don't. I've heard people say that when you took care of a baby you
got fond of it--but you don't--I don't, anyway. And it's a nuisance--
it interferes with everything. It just ties me down--and now of all
times when I'm trying to get the Junior Reds started. And I couldn't go
to Alice Clow's party last night and I was just dying to. Of course
father isn't really unreasonable and I can always get an hour or two off
in the evening when it's necessary; but I knew he wouldn't stand for my
being out half the night and leaving Susan or mother to see to the baby.
I suppose it was just as well, because the thing did take colic--or
something--about one o'clock. It didn't kick or stiffen out, so I knew
that, according to Morgan, it wasn't crying for temper; and it wasn't
hungry and no pins were sticking in it.
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