the baby face nestling at his throat, the girl coming to him
with her trials and triumphs. His heart swelled so that he could not
have spoken, but deep in his throat he muttered a dumb prayer. And how
he suffered that day, hearing her babble mixed with moanings every time
the door opened. Once the doctor said:

"It's no use for you to stand here, Wood. It only makes you suffer and
don't help her a particle."

"It _seems_ 's if it helped her, an' so--I guess I'll stay. She may
call for me, an' if she does," he said resolutely, "I'm goin' in,
doctor. How is she now?"

"She's slightly delirious now, but still she knows you're here. She now
and then speaks of you, but doesn't call for you."

But she did call for him, and he went in, and kneeling by her side he
talked to her and held her hands, stroked her hair and soothed her as
he need to when a little child unable to speak save in her pretty
Norseland tongue, and at last when opiates were given, and he rose and
staggered from the room, it seemed as though he had lived years.

So weary was he that, when the doctor came out and said, "You may go to
sleep now," he dropped heavily on a lounge and fell asleep almost with
the motion. Even the preparations for breakfast made by the
hoarse-voiced servant-girl did not wake him, but the drawling, nasal
tone of Kendall did. He sat up and looked at the oily little clerk. It
was after seven o'clock.

"Hello!" said Kendall, "when d' you get in?"

"Shortly after you went out," said Anson in reply.

Kendall felt the rebuke, and as he twisted his cuffs into place said,
"Well, y' see I couldn't do no good--a man ain't any good in such
cases, anyway--so I just thought I'd run down to St. Paul an' do a
little buying."

Anson turned away and went into the kitchen to wash his face and to
comb his hair, glad to get rid of the sight of Kendall for a moment.
Mrs. Stickney was toasting some bread.

"She's awake an' wants to see you when you woke up. It's a girl--thought
I'd tell ye--yes: she's comfortable. Say, 'tween you an' me, a man 'at
'u'd run off--waal----" she ended, expressively glancing at Kendall.

Once more Anson caught his breath as he entered the darkened chamber.
He was a rough, untaught man, but there was something in him that made
that room holy and mysterious. But the figure on the bed was tranquil
now, and the voice, though weak and low, was Flaxen's own.

He stopped as his eyes fell on her. She was no longer a girl