ore him, to the air he had to breathe. And thinking that little
Sunlocks, now so sweet, so sunny, so artless, so innocent, must come
to this, all the gall of Stephen Orry's fate rose to his throat
again.

What could he do? Take little Sunlocks away? That was impossible, for
he could not take himself away. Why had the child been born? Why had
it not died? Would not the good God take it back to Himself even now,
in all the sweetness of his childhood? No, no, no, not that either;
and yet yes, yes, yes!

Stephen's poor slow brain struggled long with this thought, and at
length a strange and solemn idea took hold of it: little Sunlocks
must die, and he must kill him.

Stephen Orry did not wriggle with his conscience, or if he cozened it
at all he made himself believe that it would not be sin but sacrifice
to part with the thing he held dearest in all the world. Little
Sunlocks was his life, but little Sunlocks must die! Better, better,
better so!

And having thus determined, he went cautiously, and even cunningly,
to work. When the little one had disappeared, he himself would never
be suspected, for all the island would say he loved it too tenderly
to do it a wrong, and he would tell everybody that he had taken it to
some old body in the south who had wished to adopt a child. So, with
Sunlocks laughing and crowing astride his shoulder, he called at Kane
Wade's house on Ballure one day, and told Bridget how he should miss
the little chap, for Sunlocks was going down to the Calf very soon,
and would not come home again for a long time, perhaps not for many a
year, perhaps not until he was a big slip of a lad, and, maybe--who
can tell?--he would never come back at all.

Thus he laid his plans, but even when they were complete he could not
bring himself to carry them through, until one day, going up from the
beach to sell a basket of crabs and eels, he found Liza drinking at
the "Hibernian."

How she came by the money was at first his surprise, for Nary Crowe
had long abandoned her; and having bitter knowledge of the way she
had once spent his earnings, he himself gave her nothing now. But
suddenly a dark thought came, and he hurried home, thrust his hand
into the thatch where he had hidden his savings, and found the place
empty.

That was the day to do it, he thought; and he took little Sunlocks
and washed his chubby face and combed his yellow hair, curling it
over his own great undeft fingers, and put his best clothe