Linda glanced down.
The boy had turned over.

He lay facing her, and he was no longer asleep.
His dark-blue, baby eyes were open; he looked as though he was peeping at his mother.

And suddenly his face dimpled; it broke into a wide, toothless smile, a perfect beam, no less.
"I'm here!" that happy smile seemed to say.

"Why don't you like me ?" There was something so quaint, so unexpected about that smile that Linda smiled herself.

But she checked herself and said to the boy coldly, "I don't like babies." "Don't like babies ?" The boy couldn't believe her.