"Folks have hearts in New England, Mr. Williston," she began, "and if you was to go to her folks or write to 'em, I guess you'd find--oh, couldn't you?" His impatient hand checked her. "He might grow up to be a real comfort to you," she murmured persistently, "and you could look out for him well enough, once you get started. Just see how smart you are, Mr. Williston--look at that prize you got; she was awful proud of it." His face twisted painfully. "I looked out for _her_ well, didn't I?" he said coldly, "I was a 'good provider,' as they say up there, wasn't I? Do you think--" his voice rang harshly and he struck the table by his side till it rattled on its unsteady legs--"do you think if I couldn't look out for her, I would look out for _that_? Get it ready." The woman rose, her lips pressed together, and rolled the blankets tightly about the quiet child. With one gesture she put on a shabby hat and pinned it to her hair. "I'll leave the bottle with you," she said to Caroline; "it'll help keep him quiet, when I'm gone. Come on." The man turned away his head as they passed him. At the outer door she paused a moment, and her face softened. "I know how you feel, Mr. Williston, and I don't judge you," she said gently, "for the Lord knows you've had more than your share of trouble. But won't you kiss it once before--before it's too late? It's your child, you know. Don't you feel--" "I feel one thing," he cried out, and the bitterness of his voice frightened Caroline; "I feel that it murdered her! Take it away!" They shrank through the door. The woman sobbed once or twice on the stairs, but Caroline patted the flannel bundle excitedly. They had rounded the corner in a moment, and the woman pointed ahead with her free hand. "Is that the automobile?" she asked. Caroline nodded. The brougham stood empty and alone where she had left it. "They're not back yet!" she cried in disgust, "the idea!" "Maybe they're looking for you," Mrs. Ufford said shortly. "Aren't you glad we've got it?" Caroline inquired timidly. "I am, awfully. I didn't expect to get such a good one, so soon," she went on more easily, "but I don't like that man much. He's so cross." "Child, child, you don't know what you're talkin' about!" the woman cried impatiently. "He's not cross--but his heart's just about broke. He thinks more money would've saved her. And I guess he's right about that. She was a soft little thing. But she stuck to him." They walked a few steps in silence. "I don't know as I was actin' right, either, to talk as I did," she continued abruptly. "I s'pose it is better as 'tis, 'specially if your folks will take the baby. They'll do a lot more for it than ever he could, prob'ly. I s'pose they're real rich--regular swells? I can see they've got a fine automobile." "Oh, yes. Cousin Richard's very rich," Caroline answered, indifferently, "that's only the brougham--there are two more. I have more fun at Aunt Edith's, though."