I have finally had sight of the infant. He is a dull-eyed, mewling thing with sallow skin – not at all a child one could love. Had he been a kitten I should have instructed Villiers to put him in a sack in the lake. Still, he has something of Boo’s baby about him which I find a little jolting. I have heard people say that all babies look alike, though, so I suppose it is only their babyness that I am observing. Josiah will not hear of him or his stupid mother leaving Blindingham. I have resolved to keep silent on the matter, for now.