"Heaven help that unborn child", thought Mrs. Vaughan. She stroked back the crest of hair from Nicholas’ forehead. "Just look at your mother!" she said.
He chuckled, wet his finger in his mouth and drew it across the pane.
Mrs. Vaughan stroked Gussie’s head. "Your mother is as wild as a deer", she said. "It is not good for the next little brother".
"No more little brothers, please", answered Gussie. She felt the cough rising in the pit of her stomach.
"When you are a little older, perhaps on your next birthday, Gussie, I am going to have a tea-party for you. About six nice little children. The little Pink boys-" She felt the cough shaking Gussie’s chest. Then it came.
By Christmas the land was frozen solid but not with the bitter coldness of Quebec. Wilmott’s river formed a glassy pond just by his wharf. He and Tite cleared it of snow and swept it clean. They worked together in complete happiness. From the night of his intoxication, Wilmott had avoided the Vaughans. On that night he had taken a dislike to Mrs. Vaughan and to Dr. Ramsay. But he had settled down to life in the neighbourhood. He went to the Pinks’ and the Laceys’ to play whist, to talk politics and religion. The Reverend Heber Pink was a sturdy, florid-complexioned man of early middle-age, with a wife rather like himself but that she was timid where he was hearty and sure of himself in all company. He was very hard-worked and was accustomed to expose himself to all weathers. He had three parishes, one with a good church in the village of Stead where the community about Jalna attended service, two in smaller villages, considerable distances apart and with small wooden churches which he was struggling to improve. He was argumentative but tolerant and he enjoyed his talks with Wilmott. But he liked Philip much better and was encouraging him to donate land and give substantial aid to the building of a new church. If this were done, Mr. Pink would be relieved of his two small churches.
Captain Lacey’s young son had leave from his ship which was lying at Halifax, and was home for the holiday season. He was a high-spirited boy, not at all like Robert Vaughan, but the two youths became friendly at once. There was a festive feeling in the neighbourhood. The building of Jalna had added a new interest to life there. The house was talked of for miles about and people drove long distances to inspect it.
Wilmott had made up his mind to give a skating-party. No one in the neighbourhood had done such a thing before nor had he himself ever given a skating-party. But it now became the one form of entertainment which appealed to him. To be sure, his house was very small but, if the day were not too cold, refreshments could be served out of doors. He had bought skates, not only for himself but for Tite, and the two had practised for days on the river, with many bruises and sore muscles. The Pinks and the Laceys were competent skaters. So were others in the neighbourhood, including the Busbys, a family who had lived in Canada for generations and had several young sons and daughters. Adeline never had had the opportunity to skate. Now she was determined to, though Mrs. Vaughan did her utmost to dissuade her and even braced herself to speak to Philip about it. He, surprisingly, seemed to think it would not hurt Adeline and was himself eager to skate. "If the unborn child is a cripple", thought Mrs. Vaughan, "the blame is on their heads. But I could weep when I think of the poor little thing".
Philip had had some practice in Quebec and chaffed Wilmott because he had not taken advantage of his opportunities there. He bought skates for Adeline and for Daisy also, who was in a state of bliss because she not only could skate but do the figure eight and the grape-vine. She promised Philip to teach him to waltz on the ice.
Christmas Day passed in pleasant serenity. A tree was brought from the woods for the children and decorated with tinsel and candles. Large packages of presents came from Philip’s sister in Devonshire and at least a dozen, very badly wrapped and in which many of the contents were broken, from Adeline’s relatives in Ireland. She had bought Philip a dark-green velvet smoking-jacket and cap, and embroidered a design in gay silks on the cuffs and collar of the jacket and around the cap, from the top of which depended a gold tassel. He looked so perfectly beautiful when adorned in these that Adeline could have wept to see him. He was a little rueful to think he could not wear them at once, but must lay them away till he was under his own roof. He wore the rueful expression when displaying the gifts to Mrs. Vaughan, which somewhat embarrassed her but not to the extent of telling him to light a cigar that very moment.
On Christmas Day, Gussie wore her first pantalettes and in them appeared a little girl, no longer just a baby. They were of a dainty whiteness beneath a blue silk frock with short sleeves and low-cut neck, and Adeline had herself made the lace which edged them. Gussie looked so adorable in these that Adeline could have wept to see her, also. She snatched her up and covered her face with kisses, then held her out for Philip’s inspection, her little blue shoes dangling beneath the pantalettes.
"Did you ever see anything so enchanting and ridiculous?" she exclaimed.
Gussie looked faintly offended. She thought they were laughing at her. Nicholas, who was accustomed to being the centre of attraction, could not bear to see his sister so enthroned. He crept to Adeline’s skirt and attempted to climb up it ruffle by ruffle. Philip picked him up and set him on his broad shoulder.
"They are a pretty pair", he declared. "The little Balestriers cannot hold a candle to ’em".
"Neither can the little Pinks".
"Nor any other children I know".
"I wonder who our new baby will be like?"
"I hope for another boy. But I wish the little beggar weren’t coming".
"I hope he will be fair and the image of you".
"Yes. It is about time there was one like me. But he will probably be the image of your father, red hair and all".
"Heaven forbid!"
"I think I should like to call him Charles after my father. He was a fine man and Charles goes well with Whiteoak".
"If you name him for your father he must be named for mine too".
"I don’t see why".
"Do you want to push my poor father out of everything?" she flared.
"You said a moment ago that you hoped the child wouldn’t look like him".
"That is different".
"Do you mean to say you would call your son Renny?"
"My father has more than one name. His name is Dennis Patrick Crawshay St. John Renny".
"Humph. I can’t say I like any of them".
"Not Dennis?"
"Dennis is not bad".
"My dear father", she said, in a mild tone, "was called Dennis all his life till he was twenty-three. Then the uncle he was named for offered him a thousand pounds if he would use one of his other names. So my father, who was willing to come for any name whatever when money was in question, cast aside Dennis and became Renny. But indeed there are members of the family who still call him Dennis, because they so hate him that they will not call him by their grandfather’s name. Not that their grandfather was a man to boast of. He was-"
Philip was looking at his watch. "It is time to dress", he interrupted, "and if you want me to hook up your stays we had better begin".
The weather on the day of Wilmott’s skating-party was crystal-bright and cold. But there was no wind and the cold was exhilarating. A glittering snow powder was now and again sifted through the clear air which was devoid of all scent but struck the nostrils, impersonal and penetrating. Footprints of the wild creatures lay like little etchings on the glittering snow. It was as though the day had been especially ordered.