Got His Grace's
happy temperament, if I may say so."
"Yes," the mother laughed. She crossed over to the window and looked
down. "That poor woman singing down there. How awful! He'll be going
down to Crole very shortly, Roberts. Splendid air for him there. But the
Square's cheerful. He likes the garden, doesn't he?"
"Oh, yes, Your Grace; all the children and the fountain. But he's a
happy baby. I should say he'd like anything."
For a moment longer she looked down into the Square. The discordant
voice was giving "Annie Laurie" to the world.
"Good-bye, darling." She stepped forward, shook the silver and coral
rattle. "See what grannie's given you!" She left it lying near his
hand, and, with a little sigh, was gone.
III
Now, as the sun was setting, the clouds had broken into little pink
bubbles, lying idly here and there upon the sky. Higher, near the top of
the window, they were large pink cushions, three fat ones, lying
sedately against the blue. During three months now Henry Fitzgeorge
Strether had been confronted with the new scene, the new urgency on his
part to respond to it.
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