Do you think he's going to be clever ?" "It depends," said Miss Batchelor, a little maliciously.

(Really, the woman was impossible, and such a hopeless fool!) Miss Batchelor's habitually nervous manner made her innuendoes doubly telling when they came.
"Well--he's very small.

Just feel how small he is." Instinctively Miss Batchelor held out her hands for the child, and in another moment he was lying across her arms, slobbering dreamily.
He was not quiet long.

He stretched himself, he writhed, he made himself limp, he made himself stiff, he threw himself backwards recklessly; and still Miss Batchelor held him.

And when he cried she held him all the closer.