They sat and watched in utter silence till the sun kissed the grey dawn white. Then the child stirred, flung off the blanket, sighed--and slept again. Dot had gone pale as death, and even Larrie's heart had beaten faster. But they composed themselves again, and watched without speaking. And blue was born in the sky, and the white tossed itself into cloud shapes that a wind drove over the sky to the west. Away at the back a gate banged, there was a sound of the contact of a tin and milk jug on the verandah. Then the gate fell to again. Baby uncurled his hands, sighed and changed his cuddled-up side position for one flat on his back. Then he opened his eyes. 'Are you ready?' Larrie said in rather a thick voice. But Dot looked at him indignantly. 'Wait till he is awake and knows what he is doing,' she said. He was laughing up at them, holding up his arms. There was some soft fur at his mother's neck that he was convinced would be good to eat, he had a desire also to pull the crisp curls on his father's head. 'Goo--goo--goo,' he said, with an impatient kick and an adorable smile. How white Dot was! How Larrie's hand trembled as he picked up the tray! 'He is awake now,' he said in a low voice. 'Let them be quite even,' Dot returned, with an agitated look, 'of course he will take the nearest one.' Larrie arranged them with mathematical precision, then put the tray near the little baby hands. For one wild second, Dot looked away, she could not have watched, then a low, mirthless laugh from Larrie recalled her eyes. The child had taken the two without a moment's hesitation, and stuffed them instantly into his little open hungry mouth. The diversion occupied some little time for both knew that paper was bad for infantile digestion, but the touch of humour about it did not strike either, or divert them from the tragedy they were bent upon. 'How _are_ we to settle it?' Larrie said wearily. Dot lifted the child suddenly up on the pillow,--there was a look of resolution in her eyes. 'We will both hold out our arms,' she said, 'whomever he goes to shall have him; it is the fairest way.' They bent down to the little fellow, father and mother, with faces that would whiten, and arms that trembled despite themselves. 'Come,' they both said. One little roseleaf hand buried itself in Larrie's curls, one clutched the fur at Dot's neck. 'Come,' they said again, and this time there was a desperate look in Dot's eyes. He looked gravely from one to the other and loosened his hold of their separate persons. There was a thoughtful expression in his eyes though his lips smiled. He half turned to Dot, and the intense look of her mouth relaxed faintly. But then suddenly he stretched out his arms and with a rapturous little leap flung himself at Larrie. CHAPTER XII A LITTLE DIPLOMAT 'Alas to be as we have been, And to be as we are to-day.'