“But they get over it when the child comes, don’t they? And she hasn’t--she hasn’t! The past few days, since the christening here, it’s been worse--lying awake at my side half the night, like one listening for something. Ah, my poor lass! Who knows what happened to her there among those vile creatures, the years before we found her! Who knows what terrible, bitter memories she is holding in her young heart, with none to help! Granny, _you_ must help her! She’s got to speak it all out, and so get rid of it.” The old woman rose and put her hands on his shoulders. “There, there, boy, don’t fash yourself! Just shut your eyes and love her. Perhaps the child knows better than us. It may be there are things of which it is better not to speak, more especially to the man you’ve married. Two to brood then, instead of one. Give her time, Ezra! She’s but a girl; things pass. The christening was a mistake, perhaps, so soon; too many people watching her, looking to see how she behaved after living among red savages, whispering about her, as neighbors will. That’s why I advised you to take her out of the settlement and win her back to civilized ways alone, with the things she knows best to help--woods and water and the open places. It may be I was wrong there. Perhaps they only remind her. Well, well, she has her baby now, and there’s nothing to tame a girl like her babies. Be patient!” “But do you help us if you can, out of your wisdom,” he urged. * * * * * Granny blushed. “My wisdom, is it? Think shame how you mock an ignorant backwoods woman that’s never had the time nor the chance for a word of it!” “I’m not talking about learning,” he said, earnestly, “though when it comes to that, you’ve got more real learning out of life than I’ll ever get out of all the books in Richmond town. Ssh! Here she comes.” Polly re-entered from the lean-to with a pair of white, new moccasins in her hand. She offered them to Ezra, still without speaking. [Illustration: Polly came in from the lean-to with a pair of fine, new moccasins in her hand. She offered them to Ezra, still without speaking.] “What, these for me?” He spoke gruffly, being moved. “Where did you get them? There’ve been no Indian traders around lately. Eh, you didn’t _make_ them?” Polly nodded shyly, smiling for the first time. “Why, how fine they are! All the beading and the stitchery and the soft doeskin! I declare, they might have been made by a squaw.” Again Granny hushed him with a quick gesture, and Ezra bit his lip. “Well, I _must_ be off. At this rate ’twill be dusk before I leave, and I meant to reach Cook’s before moonrise. We make an early start.” He laid the moccasins on a shelf. Polly watched him wistfully. “You--you will not take them?”