"Give me a show, Jim," she begged. "Go 'way. It ain't fair to come--now. Hear me?" she cried, in protest against his nearer approach, her voice rising shrilly. "It ain't fair----" "Hist!" he interrupted. "You'll wake the----" She laughed harshly. "Wake what?" she mocked. "Eh, Jim? What'll I wake?" "Why, Millie!" he exclaimed. "You'll wake the boy." "Boy!" she laughed. "What boy? There ain't no boy. Look here!" she cried, rushing impetuously to the bed, throwing back the coverlet, wildly tossing the pillows to the floor. "What'll I wake? Eh, Jim? Where's the boy I'll wake?" She turned upon him. "What you saying 'Hist!' for? Hist!" she mocked, with a laugh. "Talk as loud as you like, Jim. You don't need to care what you say or how you say it. There ain't nobody here to mind you. For I tell you," she stormed, "there ain't no boy--no more!" He caught her hand. "Let go my hand!" she commanded. "Keep off, Jim! I ain't in no temper to stand it--to-night." He withdrew. "Millie," he asked, in distress, "the boy ain't----" "Dead?" she laughed. "No. I give him away. He was different from us. I didn't have no right to keep him. I give him to a parson. Because," she added, defiantly, "I wasn't fit to bring him up. And he ain't here no more," she sighed, blankly sweeping the moonlit room. "I'm all alone--now." "Poor girl!" he muttered. She was tempted by this sympathy. "Go home, Jim," she said. "It ain't fair to stay. I'm all alone, now--and it ain't treating me right." "Millie," he answered, "you ain't treating yourself right." She flung out her arms--in dissent and hopelessness. "No, you ain't," he continued. "You've give him up. You're all alone. You can't go on--alone. Millie, girl," he pleaded, softly, "I want you. Come to me!" She wavered. "Come to me!" he repeated, his voice tremulous, his arms extended. "You're all alone. You've lost him. Come to me!"