That was all settled comfortably -- she was quite indifferent -- but meanwhile Jims was being fed with a haste and recklessness that would have filled the soul of Morgan with horror . Jims himself did n't like it , being a methodical baby , accustomed to swallowing spoonfuls with a decent interval for breath between each . He protested , but his protests availed him nothing . Rilla , as far as the care and feeding of infants was concerned , was utterly demoralized . Then the telephone-bell rang . There was nothing unusual about the telephone ringing . It rang on an average every ten minutes at Ingleside . But Rilla dropped Jims ' spoon again -- on the carpet this time -- and flew to the ` phone as if life depended on her getting there before anybody else . Jims , his patience exhausted , lifted up his voice and wept . `` Hello , is this Ingleside ? '' `` Yes . '' `` That you , Rilla ? '' `` Yeth -- yeth . '' Oh , why could n't Jims stop howling for just one little minute ? Why did n't somebody come in and choke him ? `` Know who 's speaking ? '' Oh , did n't she know ! Would n't she know that voice anywhere -- at any time ? `` It 's Ken -- is n't it ? '' `` Sure thing .
I 'm here XXXXX a look-in .
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