After supper, when the kitchen was in perfect order, Mrs. Yellam sat knitting beside Fancy. Solomon lay at the feet of his mistress. The logs burned briskly, another evidence of coming frost. Sparks burst out of them, dazzling scintillations, miniature fireworks. Mrs. Yellam was impressed by this pyrotechnic display. "It minds me of when Master Lionel come of age. I hopes they logs'll burn like that when Alferd is sittin' here, wi' a baby on his knee." Mrs. Yellam appeared so satisfied with life in general that Fancy hesitated to disturb the peace, but impulse was too strong for her. "Solly acted very queer all day." "Did he now?" "Hardly touched his nice dinner." "Well, well, times he takes a notion to scrummage in dustheaps, the lil' scavenger! 'Tis the male in him, I reckons. And far-seein'. He do take a squint into the future, seemin'ly." Fancy stared at Mrs. Yellam, slightly startled. "He buries bones and beastliness all over my garden. I caught 'un wi' a cod's head, and cuffed his, I did." "I took the notion that he was worrying about--about me." "Did 'ee, now? Natural enough. You bide so ca'm as I be. Worry brings peevish children into this world. You sing a hymn, if you think it'll hearten you up. 'Onward, Christian Soldiers,' be my fav'rite." "I do love 'Abide with Me.'" "You sing what you've a mind to. You be near your time, and must please yourself. Singin' helped me, but it druv my pore man to the ale-house. So I quit hymns, for his sake." "Was Mr. Yellam with you when your first baby was born?" "My, no! What a queer lil' thing you be! He was carrier, wi' business to attend to. Men bain't wanted at such times." "I should like to have Alfred." "No, you wouldn't. Take that from me. I've a mind to give 'ee a sip o' currant wine." Fancy declined this, with many thanks. The talk became desultory, and died down. Fancy dozed off quietly. Mrs. Yellam laid down her knitting and gazed keenly at the pale face bent upon the thin bosom. _Spindlin'!_ Her own word came back to her. She saw that a faint smile curved the girl's lips. Evidently she was dreaming happily. Of what? Solomon rose, stretched himself, and stood beside his mistress. He whined a little. Mrs. Yellam recalled what Fancy had said about his "acting queer." "She bain't too strong," she muttered. Solomon whined again and lay down. Mrs. Yellam's face hardened. The same thought that had assailed Fancy attacked her, burying fangs in her heart. If things went wrong----?