Thus it happened they were in the loft on the day Peter drove out the gate behind old Walter after having mentioned to Maria that their family would be increased before nightfall. From their perch in the loft Stephen and Mollie watched him depart. They saw Maria come forth from the kitchen, seat herself on the door-step, place her unkempt head against the post supporting the lean-to roof that covered the entrance to the house and compose herself for a nap. The child, Ambrose, was already asleep under a tree, lying on his back with his mouth open, while flies swarmed over his one scanty and much begrimed garment. "Don't let's go down, Splutters," said Mollie to Stephen. "I'm tired of picking potato bugs. Let's stay here awhile and look at the pictures." Stephen willing agreed. His back ached from pulling weeds and carrying heavy pails of water and feed for the farm animals. "Then I'll hear you read and spell and we'll make believe we're in school," he said, as he procured the treasured books from their hiding place. To this naturally studious child the disappointment of not arriving at the school he had so joyfully looked forward to was a deeper wound than any purely physical burden his captor could lay upon him. Whatever his occupation Stephen was always thinking of that school. Again and again the vision of its tall buildings and broad campus appeared before him like a mirage. The more he thought about it the more difficult it became to take any degree of interest in his immediate surroundings. For Mollie's sake he tried to be cheerful and to make conversation but in his heart was an ache too deep for words and a sense of calamity it was impossible to shake off. He had not Mollie's effervescent nature nor her impulsiveness. With him every word, every act, every decision must be carefully thought out in advance. In this way he very seldom made mistakes but Mollie's alertness and keen imagination were often able to bring results of one kind or another while he was yet deliberating. Now, Mollie designated the book she preferred for the moment and the two children flung themselves down before the great, open window from which they might quickly detect any sign of an impending interruption, and were soon absorbed in the story of Moses in the bulrushes. It greatly appealed to Mollie. Many of the words were too large even for Stephen to pronounce. Others were meaningless. But Stephen's sedate reasoning and Mollie's intuition bridged whatever difficulties there were and they contrived to read into the narrative much more than the printed page contained. "I don't guess they had a bog like this one anywhere around," Mollie remarked at the conclusion of the reading. "Something awful might have happened to that poor little baby." Mollie's sympathies were easily roused, and she loved babies. Had Ambrose been a normal child she would have devoted herself to him without hesitation.