But they had little time to weep together, for presently Poky said, anxiously: "Oh, dear, this is dreadful! I don't know what to do! Sam and me had a dreadful fuss this morning, and he said I gadded about too much, and he's gwine ter watch and see whar I goes ter. He's been a-drinkin' agin, the most owdacious raskil he is in his drams that I ever see in all my born days! Cross as a boar with a sore head, dat he is!" The moaning girl, who was rocking the dead baby on breast, uttered a cry of fear, and Poky continued: "De reason why he's got ter drinkin' and cuttin' up ag'in is case why somebuddy has up an' robbed him whilst he war away courtin' me. You don't happen ter know nothin' 'bout some papers dat was hid under de flatstone ob de h'arth, does you, Miss Flower, honey?" Poky whispered, anxiously. In her great grief over her dead child, Flower could not remember for a moment, and she was about to reply in the negative, when suddenly there flashed over her a memory of the night when Mrs. Fielding had gone mad and attempted her life. She remembered what Jewel had uttered so triumphantly that night, declaring that she had found the papers that her mother had sought in vain in the cabin--the fatal diary of Charley Fielding. Flower hesitated a moment lest she should do wrong in betraying her half-sister; then her gratitude to this good woman overpowered all other considerations, and she told her briefly that Jewel had taken the papers, but that they related to important family matters alone, and could have been of no use to Sam. Poky was glad to find out so much, and then she took the little child gently from the weeping mother, and, folding it reverently in her shawl, said, gently, though anxiously: "Honey, I don't want ter skeer yer, but dis death will happen ter make trouble lessen I could bury de baby private like without anybuddy knowing. Is you willin' to trust me?" Flower only repeated, anxiously: "Trouble?" Then Poky went on to explain that if the secret they had been keeping became known it might be suspected that they had murdered the baby to get rid of it. "I--murder my little, brown-eyed boy--my precious Douglas!" the young mother cried, indignantly; but Poky persisted, adding, gravely: "Miss Jewel Fielding would egg them on, you know, chile, and so I think you'd better run away now and leabe me to bury de poor baby." CHAPTER XXVI. It seemed terrible to poor Flower to leave her little one to be consigned to an unknown grave by this humble friend; but Poky's good counsel prevailed at last, and with one last kiss on the lovely little face, she stole away in the rough disguise Poky had provided for her, and began her battle with the cold world.