first time he did this Elizabeth seemed rather surprised, though
she offered no objection; but after that she took it as a matter of
course, and chatted with him on all manner of subjects. She listened
very kindly when Malcolm sounded her on the subject of Kit, and made
all sorts of impossible plans for the child's future; and though she
laughed at him good-humouredly, and told him that he was a visionary,
impracticable person, she soon became serious and brought her shrewd
common-sense and feminine wits to his assistance. And so it was that
one day he made a proposition that nearly took Caleb's breath away.

Kit must certainly not go back to Todmorden's Lane until she was
stronger, he remarked. Miss Templeton and he were fully agreed on this
point; the fogs and low-lying mists from the river were harmful to her
poor little chest.

Caleb must leave her under Mrs. Sullivan's care. Miss Templeton had
made all arrangements, and he would be responsible for the expense.
There had been a pitched battle over this point; but for once Elizabeth
had been forced to give in, Malcolm had been so stern and masterful.

Caleb should come down for the week-end every three weeks or so, he
could promise him that, and a whole week at Christmas. But Caleb looked
too much dazed to answer, and there was a misty look in the
transparent, light-blue eyes.

"I'm took all of a heap!" he ejaculated at last. "It is not that I
don't thank you kindly, sir, for I am pretty nigh choking with
gratitude; but you see there is Ma'am to reckon with--if Kit were her
own little 'un she couldn't be fonder of her."

"I daresay not," remarked Malcolm, and there was a trace of impatience
in his tone; "but, after all, Mr. Martin, you are Kit's father." But
Caleb only shook his head doubtfully, and went on in his slow,
ruminating way.

"Most folk think that Ma'am is a bad-natured woman because she gives
them the rough side of her tongue; but, Lord bless you, her bark's
worse than her bite. Her heart is just set on Kit, and she would not
hurt a hair of her head in her most contrary moods, when even the black
cat won't stay in the place she is making such a scrimmage with the
pots and pans. But Kit only laughs. 'It is Ma'am at her music,' she
says; 'but it t'aint the sort of music I like.' Yes, indeed, sir, I
have heered her say that a score of times."

"Very well, then, you had better go and have a talk with your wife,"
returned Malcolm.

And Caleb went, an