Summer came, with its gift. Joseph Montgomery Green, Jr., was born in July, when the stars began to drown in the first faint light.
He was a good, healthy baby, existing as peaceably as possible through Kate's panics. If he cried she was frantic with worry; if he slept quietly her heart would stop, she would catch him up from his crib to make sure he hadn't died in his sleep. Lizzie and Joe were sent after Doctor Wells at all hours of the day and night. Mrs. Driggs was always "slipping over," herself, or sending little Hoagland to inquire:
"Why, Mrs. Green, why, mamma says to tell you she saw the doctor's carriage and she says is anything the matter with the baby, and, why, mamma says is there anything she can do, she said to say."
Mr. and Mrs. Driggs were kind—forgiving, too, for Joe wouldn't ask them to dine, and of course they knew every time the Greens had a party.
"Oh, you don't know what it is to have a baby! "Kate, happy, important, worried, would tell Carrie and Miss Smith with unintentional cruelty. "The responsibility! Look, Miss Smith. Ought his head to wabble so?"
"Oh, my doodness, but it was a ducky-wucky-wuck, so it was!" Miss Smith cried, adoring across the fence. "It was just the booflest baby that ever came to town, wif dose dreat bid blue eyes!"
"And our fat pink cheeks!" Carrie Pyne moaned.
