A son has been born to the Congressman, a legitimate heir. A beautiful, beautiful boy. He came into the world so pale, his mother fretted for days over his little Moses crib, praying for a little dark to come in. There were good signs from the start, a bit of brownness 'round his cuticles and the tips of his ears, but like many light-skinned babies his eyes are a greeny-gray. I am to be the Godmother. They named him Cyrus after me. I took him back to an Episcopal church to be baptized; I couldn't wait for the Baptist immersion. If anything happens to my Godchild, I want him to go straight up to heaven and wait for his father and mother. I want no doubts at all.