imed, "what you doin' up at 'his time?"

"I sat up fu' you. I got somep'n' to ax you, pappy." Her voice quivered
and he snuggled her up in his arms.

"What's troublin' my little lady gal now? Is de chillen bin bad?"

She laid her head close against his big breast, and the tears would come
as she answered, "No, suh; de chillen bin ez good az good could be, but
oh, pappy, pappy, is you got gal in yo' haid an' a-goin' to bring me a
step-mothah?"

He held her away from him almost harshly and gazed at her as he queried,
"W'y, you po' baby, you! Who's bin puttin' dis hyeah foolishness in yo'
haid?" Then his laugh rang out as he patted her head and drew her close
to him again. "Ef yo' pappy do bring a step-mothah into dis house, Gawd
knows he'll bring de right kin'."

"Dey ain't no right kin'," answered Patsy.

"You don' know, baby; you don' know. Go to baid an' don' worry."

He sat up a long time watching the candle sputter, then he pulled off
his boots and tiptoed to Patsy's bedside. He leaned over her. "Po'
little baby," he said; "what do she know about a step-mothah?" And Patsy
saw him and heard him, for she was awake then, and far into the night.

In the eyes of the child her father stood convicted. He had "gal in his
haid," and was going to bring her a step-mother; but it would never be;
her resolution was taken.

She arose early the next morning and after getting her father off to
work as usual, she took the children into hand. First she scrubbed them
assiduously, burnishing their brown faces until they shone again. Then
she tussled with their refractory locks, and after that she dressed them
out in all the bravery of their best clothes.

Meanwhile her tears were falling like rain, though her lips were shut
tight. The children off her mind, she turned her attention to her own
toilet, which she made with scrupulous care. Then taking a small
tin-type of her mother from the bureau drawer, she put it in her bosom,
and leading her little brood she went out of the house, locking the door
behind her and placing the key, as was her wont, under the door-step.

Outside she stood for a moment or two, undecided, and then with one
long, backward glance at her home she turned and went up the street. At
the first corner she paused again, spat in her hand and struck the
watery globule with her finger. In the direction the most of the spittle
flew, she turned. Patsy Ann was fleeing from home and a step-mother,
and Fate had d