I was made very uneasy in my mind by Mrs. Pocket's falling into a
discussion with Drummle respecting two baronetcies, while she ate a
sliced orange steeped in sugar and wine, and, forgetting all about the
baby on her lap, who did most appalling things with the nut-crackers. At
length little Jane, perceiving its young brains to be imperilled, softly
left her place, and with many small artifices coaxed the dangerous
weapon away. Mrs. Pocket finishing her orange at about the same time,
and not approving of this, said to Jane,-"You naughty child, how dare you? Go and sit down this instant!"
"Mamma dear," lisped the little girl, "baby ood have put hith eyeth
out."
"How dare you tell me so?" retorted Mrs. Pocket. "Go and sit down in
your chair this moment!"
Mrs. Pocket's dignity was so crushing, that I felt quite abashed, as if
I myself had done something to rouse it.
"Belinda," remonstrated Mr. Pocket, from the other end of the table,
"how can you be so unreasonable? Jane only interfered for the protection
of baby."
"I will not allow anybody to interfere," said Mrs. Pocket. "I am
surprised, Matthew, that you should expose me to the affront of
interference."
"Good God!" cried Mr. Pocket, in an outbreak of desolate desperation.
"Are infants to be nut-crackered into their tombs, and is nobody to save
them?"
"I will not be interfered with by Jane," said Mrs. Pocket, with a
majestic glance at that innocent little offender. "I hope I know my poor
grandpapa's position. Jane, indeed!"
Mr. Pocket got his hands in his hair again, and this time really did
lift himself some inches out of his chair. "Hear this!" he helplessly
exclaimed to the elements. "Babies are to be nut-crackered dead, for
people's poor grandpapa's positions!" Then he let himself down again,
and became silent.
We all looked awkwardly at the tablecloth while this was going on. A
pause succeeded, during which the honest and irrepressible baby made a
series of leaps and crows at little Jane, who appeared to me to be the
only member of the family (irrespective of servants) with whom it had
any decided acquaintance.
"Mr. Drummle," said Mrs. Pocket, "will you ring for Flopson? Jane, you
undutiful little thing, go and lie down. Now, baby darling, come with
ma!"
The baby was the soul of honor, and protested with all its might. It
doubled itself up the wrong way over Mrs. Pocket's arm, exhibited a pair
of knitted shoes and dimpled ankles to the company in lieu of its soft
face, and was carried out in the highest state of mutiny. And it gained
its point after all, for I saw it through the window within a few
minutes, being nursed by little Jane.