her own
family.' Well, I thought of you all, an' some of you had families, an'
some of you had to go out fur day's work; an' then there 's some
people's hands I would n't want to see the child fall into." (This with
an annihilating glance in Mrs. Warren's direction.) "You know what the
Bible says about the sins of the father; well, that child needs proper
raisin': so in this way the Lord showed it to me that it was my dooty to
take up the burden myself."

First there was an absolute silence of utter astonishment, and then,
"Oh, Miss Hester!" broke from a full chorus of voices.

"You don't reelly mean it, Miss Hester?" said Mrs. Davis.

"I do that; but I want you all to understand that it ain't a matter of
pleasure or desire with me; it 's dooty. Ef I see a chance to save a
soul from perdition an' don't take it, I am responsible, myself, to the
Lord for that soul."

The women were almost too astounded to speak, Mrs. Warren not less than
the rest of them. She had made her suggestion in derision, and here it
was being acted upon in sober earnest. She was entirely routed.

"Now, Melissy, ef there ain't no one that disagrees with me, you might
as well pack up what few things the child has, an' I 'll take him
along."

No one objected, and the few things were packed up. "Come, Freddie,"
said Mrs. Davis tremulously, "get on yore hat." The child obeyed. "You
're a-goin' to be Miss Hester's little boy now. You must be good."

Miss Prime held out her hand to him, but the child drew back and held to
his protectress's skirt. A hurt expression came into the spinster's
face. It was as if the great sacrifice she was making was being
belittled and rejected by a child. Mrs. Warren laughed openly.

"Come, Freddie, be nice now, dear; go with Miss Hester."

"I want to stay with you," cried the child.

"Pore little dear!" chorussed the women.

"But Mis' Davis can't keep the little boy; now he must go with Miss
Prime, an' sometimes he kin come an' see Mis' Davis an' play with John
an' Harriet. Won't that be nice?"

"I want to stay with you."

"Come, Frederick," said Miss Prime.

"Go now, like a good boy," repeated Mrs. Davis. "Here 's a copper fur
you; take it in yore little hand,--that 's a man. Now kiss me good-bye.
Kiss John an' Harriet."

The child, seeing that he must go, had given up resistance, and, doing
as he was bidden, took Miss Prime's hand, sobbingly. Some of us do not
learn so soon to bow to the inevitable.