The Nevada picayune., 1885-02-12
MIR. NICHOLsON,s AABY.
London Society.
CHAPTER I.

CHAPTER I.
 Mrs Nicholson was standing in q dubit us attidude, with the study door half opeh, and her eyes tarn' ing from the quiet figure in the Srm- chair by the table to another open door in the passage behind her, through which sue could see a flood of sunshine, and in the sun shine a cradle.
 q don't feel quite easy" she said; "I am so afraid she could cry ard no one hear her. l wish l had not let nurse go out; but all you have to do," coming into the room and speaking impressively, "all you have to do is to ring the bell violently-violently, remember flor cook. For heaven's sake, 5ohn," aeaning on the table and stretching oet pretty hand to at- tract her husbands attention, 'aeok ap, or speak, or answer me, or you will drive me mai!'
 "What is it all about, Agatha?" The calm, placid, intelligent face opposite was lifted gently, and the thin finger was slipped on the page to mark a pause.
 wt is baby, John," said Mrs. Nicholss4 in a faltering voice, and with fife, angry tears flowing down her cheeks. Here have I, for the last ten minutes, been begging and imploring of you to remember baby; not to nurse her. l wouldn't trust you, but only to ring the bell if she cries.'
 "Does that stop her! It seems single enough. l think even l can do that"
 But Mrs, Nicholson shook her head, still weeping.
 "You may laugh at me or sheer i if you liAe. lift were my own ] would say nothing; l would bear it all; but Emmy'si'
 With a patient sigh the gentle man at the writing ta'He pushed the book away and lost his place He looked at her in Il bewilded way.
 "What is it, Agatha, a baby'. O Emmy's baby, of course"
 And not onc-half One-hun dreth part, one-thousanth part, as valuable in your eyes, broke in Agatha, with impetuosity, ''as the smallest, the most unknown, the most undiscovered star! You need not tell me; l know it."
 "Of course," frowning gently "every ono knows that a star, how ever small-stars are not famous occording to their size, my dear , is of infinitely more value than "a' hair of a baby's head. I mean"- hastily-"speaking from the en tirely scientific point of view; bd' as you were saying-you were say ing, were you nOt"-a little doubt fully-"sOmething about that un fortunate babe O, Emmy'si'
 Mrs. Nicholson had dried hel eyes and was confronting him 1T all the cool splendor of her pretty summer dress, and with all thu calm determin ation of a woman who has k,ade up her mind.
 "Yes, was," she said; "only once for all, John, if you call it z babe it will leave your house al once and never, never come back and if you call it unfortunate shall take that hateful manuscrip with me and burn it at the kitcher fire. If it were yours"-with i'm passiOned irony-''it might indeed be described as unfortunate; but Charles is the best of fathers, and he has always been the best ofhus bands."
 "Yes, yes; of course. my dear. said nothing against Charles l dit not know we were talking abou him. We can finish him up to night" cheertully. "If that is al you had better go out now while i is fne," turning his eyes to the daz zling sunshine for an instant ant then back to his plotted page.- "You can tell me about Charle you know, when you cOihe in The best of husbands! I don know much about them, I fear, bu I know a little about the best c wives.''
 He rose and laid his hand un tn long slender, soft gray glove tha