aughing-mouthed rogue, staggering
valiantly on sturdy, emulous legs, taking tribute everywhere with all
babyhood's divine audacity, walked straight into her heart. He slept
beside her at night, for him she darkened and quieted the house of
afternoons, lying down with him to watch his slumbers, to brood with
mother fondness upon the round, rosy, small face, and the even, placid
breathing.

Drane had brought such clothing as they had, but Judith found them
ill-provided, and set to work for them at once. Being a capable
needlewoman she soon had them apparelled more to her liking, and the
labour physicked pain. Sitting in the porch sewing, with the baby
tumbling about the floor at her feet and Mart and Lucy building
play-houses in the yard under the trees, Judith began dimly to realise
that life, somewhere and at some time, might lack all she had so
passionately craved, all she so piercingly regretted, and yet hold some
peace, some satisfaction. True she was still desolate, robbed,
despairing, yet with the children to tend there were hours when she
almost lost sight of her own sorrow, in the sweet compulsion of doing for
them.

Jim Cal shook his head over these arrangements. "Looks like to me ef I
was a widower with chaps, trying to wed a fine lookin', upheaded gal like
Jude, I'd a' kep' the little 'uns out of her sight as much as I could,
'stid of fetchin' 'em right to her. Hit seems now as though she muched
them greatly, but she's sartin shore to find out what a sight o' trouble
chaps makes, and ain't any woman wantin' more work than she's 'bleeged to
have."

Lacking active concerns of his own, James Calhoun was always greatly
interested in those of the persons about him. Judith's doings, on account
of her reticence, beauty and high spirit, proved a theme of unending,
mild interest.

"Jude," he opened out one day as he sat on the edge of the porch while
his cousin was busy with some sewing for her little visitors, "did ye
hear 'bout Lace Rountree?"

Judith never moved her eyes from her work. "I know they's sech a person,"
she said evenly, "if that's what you mean."

"No, but have ye heared of how he's a-doin' here lately?" persisted the
fat man. "I don't know as anybody has named anything special to me about
Lacey Rountree or his doin's," Judith returned with a rising irritation.
"Why should they?"

Jim Cal heaved a wheezy sigh. "'Caze yo' said to be the cause of it," he
expounded with lugubrious enjoyment. "Lac