e asleep, and so he ventured to say,
eagerly, "It wouldn't not take long to carry all our things to another
house, would it? Me and Shovel could near do it ourselves."

"And that's God's truth," the woman said, with a look round the room.
"But what for should we do that?"

"Do you no see, mother?" he whispered excitedly. "Then you and me could
slip away, and--and leave her--in the press."

The feeble smile with which his mother received this he interpreted
thus, "Wherever we go'd to she would be there before us."

"The little besom!" he cried helplessly.

His mother saw that mischievous boys had been mounting him on his
horse, which needed only one slap to make it go a mile; but she was a
spiritless woman, and replied indifferently, "You're a funny litlin."

Presently a dry sob broke from her, and thinking the child was the
cause, soft-hearted Tommy said, "It can't not be helped, mother; don't
cry, mother, I'm fond on yer yet, mother; I--I took her away. I found
another woman--but she would come."

"She's God's gift, man," his mother said, but she added, in a different
tone, "Ay, but he hasna sent her keep."

"God's gift!" Tommy shuddered, but he said sourly, "I wish he would take
her back. Do you wish that, too, mother?"

The weary woman almost said she did, but her arms--they gripped the baby
as if frightened that he had sent for it. Jealous Tommy, suddenly
deprived of his mother's hand, cried, "It's true what Shovel says, you
don't not love me never again; you jest loves that little limmer!"

"Na, na," the mother answered, passionate at last, "she can never be to
me what you hae been, my laddie, for you came to me when my hame was in
hell, and we tholed it thegither, you and me."'

This bewildered though it comforted him. He thought his mother might be
speaking about the room in which they had lived until six months ago,
when his father was put into the black box, but when he asked her if
this were so, she told him to sleep, for she was dog-tired. She always
evaded him in this way when he questioned her about his past, but at
times his mind would wander backwards unbidden to those distant days,
and then he saw flitting dimly through them the elusive form of a child.
He knew it was himself, and for moments he could see it clearly, but
when he moved a step nearer it was not there. So does the child we once
were play hide and seek with us among the mists of infancy, until one
day he trips and falls into the