implied, but a little girl—who ever heard of such a thing? 4
"I'm getting this to bind some crib blankets. I was telling Miss Butterfield my son's just had a little girl. Yes, indeed it is! Don't you think this is pretty, Hatty? So delicate. Let's see—I calculated eight times from my nose to my hand—how many yards would that be?"
"What are they going to call her?" asked Miss Butterfield, getting out her notebook.
"Hope. I simply wouldn't hear of them naming her after me"
"Hope. That's very sweet. I'll be wanting a picture of her little ladyship for my page, Kate."
"We're going to have her taken with Aunt Sarah. You know it's her ninety-sixth birthday next week."
Hope lay in Aunt Sarah's arms, blowing bubbles. Mr. Minty's son, who took the photographs, said he had never seen such a good baby.
The reproduction in the Sunday News was rather black, but it was large and impressive and the only picture on the society page except a tiny one of Mrs. Elmer Kress, chairman of the musical department of the Woman's Club, which didn't really count. Under Aunt Sarah and the baby was printed:
