* * * * * “Oh, just a pet-name,” said the other, mollified, “and a right pretty one, too! Is it hungry, then, poor little starved lamb?” she added, for the baby was whimpering urgently. The mother ran into the lean-to and returned after a moment, bringing an old-fashioned nursing bottle with a long rubber tube, which Granny eyed with great disfavor. “Humph! What a contraption to cheat a child out of its natural rights! Don’t see many of ’em in these parts. Cook must ’a’ got it from a French trader! All well enough for his poor wean, whose mother died in the borning; but for a strong, hearty lass like you---- I’m surprised he would ’a’ brought it to you! Don’t seem quite modest, like.” “I asked him for it,” said Polly. “Asked him! Whatever for?” The girl answered, hesitatingly, “If--if I should be taken away, like young Mistress Cook----” “Nonsense!” interrupted Granny, briskly. “None of that, my girl! No silly thoughts. You’re peaked, to be sure; but tain’t as if you coughed, nor run a low fever, nor looked to be sickening up for something. You’ll live to see the little tad followin’ at your heels like a puppy, and another of him lying in the cradle. That’s right!” she went on, as Polly dropped to her knees beside the baby, and bent low over him, her face hidden. “That’s the place to forget what’s troubling you, there with him at your breast. No more foolish fancies! And no more wandering for wife and mother of men like ours, Polly, my darling. They’ll do the wandering--with us to come back to in their own good time. ’Tis a fine, thrilling life out there in the wilderness--but ’tis a happier one, here under our own apple trees at home, eh?” The room was growing quite dark. “Better put a fagot on,” added the old woman. “Never neglect your fire, child, ’tis bad housekeeping. And then come here. I want to talk to you.” Polly crouched obediently at her knee, turning up a face full of trust and love. “No, not like that!” said the other sharply. “Sit like a civilized body, do, not squatting on your haunches like one of them squaw critters. There, that’s better! Sometimes you give me a turn, with your savage ways. Polly, do ’e know why I’ve come out to live with you and young Ezra here, me that’s got a good home of her own, and had thought to be done forever with the border life? You see, I kind of lost my courage, that time the savages got your pa and ma, and took you captive--not that I hadn’t plenty of other children left, but Johnny, your father, was my first--Dan’l’s boy; and nobody has their first but once.