Australian Tales - Setis

inside to see my dear Ruth and my darling babe, who were looking so
pretty in their nice white caps, et cetera. How pleased and proud I felt to
be sure, as I stood and gazed at them, and kissed them alternately, while I
fancied that I never before felt my heart so brimfull of love.
“In a fortnight my dear Ruth was able to get on to the parlour sofa; and
you can fancy how delighted I was to see her there, dressed in a chaste
print robe, with bows down the front; a white cashmere shawl over her
shoulders, and her long dark hair falling in negligé bands over her
delicate face. I often stood and gazed at her as she sat with her baby in
arms, till I felt my breast swelling with fatherly pride and affection.
“Soon afterwards, Mrs. Follidodd took her departure, with her bonnetbox
and carpet-bag, and, to tell the truth, I did not grieve after her;
although she was a nice old lady, and as merry as a magpie. I am fond of
music, Mr. Boomerang, as I have before stated; still I got very weary of
nurse's standard melodies before her month expired. Those ancient
rhymes commencing with
‘Hey diddle diddle,
The cat and the fiddle,’
are not ‘lacking in startling incident, and in their moral aspect, are
preferable to some of the popular songs of modern times; still, I doubt if
any person would like to hear ‘a cat and a fiddle' all day long, unless he
were music-mad. That was a favourite song with Mrs. Follidodd, and she
believed it had a soothing influence on my infant, though I think she
must have observed that it had a contrary effect on me.
“My darling's vocal performances, too, began to be less interesting to
me than they were when I first heard them; not that they were diminished
in power — quite the contrary — but they were rather too frequent, and
they occasionally interfered with my nocturnal repose.
“ ‘Do pat that dear child's back, my love,’ I said to Ruth one night, as I
sat up in bed and rubbed my sleepy eyes with my nightcap. ‘I cannot
think whatever ails it. Are you quite sure there are no pins irritating its
little person, my dear?’
“Ruth answered me in a quicker tone than usual, that ‘it had neither
pins nor needles to worry it.’
“ ‘Well, then it must be ill,’ I replied, ‘and I will consult Doctor Dollop
about it to-morrow.’
“Accordingly, the next morning, I called at his surgery, and explained
to him very carefully all the distressing symptoms I had observed in my
infant, especially dwelling on its frequent fits of grief.
“The doctor smiled blandly, as if I were joking with him, which rather
vexed me, for I thought it no joke to lose two hours' sleep on the previous
night; and perhaps that had given a slight acerbity to my temper that