. The
majesty of maternity was on her pale face and in her great eyes. A
faint, expectant smile was on her lips; her eyes were fixed on his face
as she drew the cover from the little red, weirdly-wrinkled face at her
throat.

Before he could speak, and while he was looking down at the mite of
humanity, Kendall stepped into the room.

"Hello, Ellie! How are----"

A singular revulsion came out on her face. She turned to Anson. "Make
him go 'way; I don't want him."

"All right," said Kendall cheerfully, glad to escape.

"Isn't she beautiful?" the mother whispered. "Does she look like me?"
she asked artlessly.

"She's beautiful to me because she's yours, Flaxie," replied Anson,
with a delicacy all the more striking because of the contrast with his
great frame and hard, rough hands. "But there, my girl, go to sleep
like baby, an' don't worry any more."

"You ain't goin' away while I'm sick?" she asked, following him with
her eyes, unnaturally large.

"I won't never go 'way again if you don't want me to," he replied.

"Oh, I'm so glad!" she sighed restfully.

He was turning to go when she wailed reproachfully, "Pap, you didn't
kiss baby!"

Anson turned and came back. "She's sleepin', an' I thought it wasn't
right to kiss a girl without she said so."

This made Flaxen smile, and Anson went out with a lighter heart than he
had had for two years. Kendall met him outside and said confidentially:

"I don't s'pose it was just the thing for me to do; but--confound it! I
never could stand a sick-room, anyway. I couldn't do any good,
anyway--just been in the way. She'll get over her mad in a few days.
Think so?"

But she did not. Her singular and sudden dislike of him continued, and
though she passively submitted to his being in the room, she would not
speak a word to him nor look at him as long as she could avoid it; and
when he approached the baby or took it in his arms a jealous frown came
on her face.

As for Anson, he grew to hate the sound of that little chuckle of
Kendall's; the part in the man's hair and the hang of his cut-away coat
made him angry. The trim legs, a little bowed, the big cuffs hiding the
small, cold hands, and the peculiar set of his faultless collar, grew
daily more insupportable.

"Say, looky here, Kendall," said he in desperation one day, "I wish you
didn't like me quite so well. We don't hitch first rate--at least, I
don't. Seems to me you're neglectin' your business too much."

He