With a resigned air she marched downstairs, carrying Jims, and sat down
on the veranda. It was, no doubt, a ridiculous thing to sit and cuddle a
contrary war-baby when your best young man was making his farewell call,
but there was nothing else to be done.
Jims was supremely happy. He kicked his little pink-soled feet
rapturously out under his white nighty and gave one of his rare laughs.
He was beginning to be a very pretty baby; his golden hair curled in
silken ringlets all over his little round head and his eyes were
beautiful.
"He's a decorative kiddy all right, isn't he?" said Ken.
"His looks are very well," said Rilla, bitterly, as if to imply that
they were much the best of him. Jims, being an astute infant, sensed
trouble in the atmosphere and realized that it was up to him to clear it
away. He turned his face up to Rilla, smiled adorably and said, clearly
and beguilingly, "Will--Will."
It was the very first time he had spoken a word or tried to speak. Rilla
was so delighted that she forgot her grudge against him. She forgave him
with a hug and kiss. Jims, understanding that he was restored to favour,
cuddled down against her just where a gleam of light from the lamp in
the living-room struck across his hair and turned it into a halo of gold
against her breast.
Kenneth sat very still and silent, looking at Rilla--at the delicate,
girlish silhouette of her, her long lashes, her dented lip, her adorable
chin.
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