"Well," gasped Mrs. Grumble, throwing herself back in her chair, "well,
I never . . . so that's it . . . I can tell you this: the day that
baby comes into this house, I go out of it. Why, who ever heard of
such a thing? No, indeed."

"There," she thought to herself, "that's what comes of people like Mrs.
Wicket."

"Mrs. Grumble," said Mr. Jeminy.

"I've no more to say," said Mrs. Grumble.

"Mrs. Grumble," pleaded Mr. Jeminy, "I am an old man. There is nothing
left for me to do in the world any more. I am sure you would be
pleased with Anna's baby. Let us do this much for youth; for the new
world."

"I declare," cried Mrs. Grumble, "you'll drive me clean out of my wits.
The new world . . . you mean Sodom and Gomorrah, more like. The new
world . . . sakes alive."

"Mrs. Grumble," said Mr. Jeminy, "the old world is dead and gone. Let
the young be free to build a new world. It will be happier than ours.
It will be a world of love, and candor. Perhaps it will be also a
world of poverty. That would not do any harm, Mrs. Grumble."

"A fine world," said Mrs. Grumble. "At least, I won't live to see much
of it, I've that to be thankful for."