We ought all to think that he has nothing the matter with him, and then
he will soon cease to cry. Come, let us all think of other things and
take our minds off baby. Don't even look at him."
We hastened to do as we were bid. I began to whistle cheerily, and
turning my back on my precious grandson, called Josephine's attention
to the beauties of the landscape in a series of philosophic utterances.
As for Winona herself, she was Spartan enough to restore the little lad
to his baby-carriage, and to busy herself in reflecting whether the
spot of blood on her robin's-egg blue morning wrapper would wash out.
Within three minutes more Master Baby had ceased to sob, and was
playing contentedly again with the rustling autumn leaves, when the
regular practitioner who, it seemed, lived close by, arrived with
Harold at full trot. Winona rose to receive him with a sweet smile,
and said, with her old serenity: "Baby is quite well, Doctor. We all
applied Christian Science principles to his condition, and he finds
that he was in error to suppose that he was really hurt. Thank you so
much for coming."
I was really too much overwhelmed by this speech to think of
criticising, but Josephine evidently suspected me of something of the
kind, for she pinched unmistakably my arm. As for the poor doctor, he
was smiling in a sickly sort of fashion when my son-in-law, who I am
glad to see is something of a philosopher himself, broke in with--
"Since there are no bones broken, the least thing you can do for us,
Doctor, is to stay to luncheon.
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