tion, that for a few moments there was
another silence, broken as before by Mrs. Doty.

"Waal," she remarked, removing her snuff-stick and expectorating into the
fire. "Ye've allus been kinder fond o' chillun, Tom, and mebbe she ain't
as colicky by natur' as Martin Luther was, but I mus' say it's the
curi'sest thing I ever heern--him a-gwine away an' givin' her cl'ar up as
ef he hadn't no sort o' nat'ral feelin's--I do say it's curi's."

"He's a queer fellow," said Tom, "a queer fellow! There's no denying
that."

That this was true was proven by his conduct during the time in which it
was liable to public comment. Until night he was not seen, and then he
came in at a late hour and, walking in silence through the roomful of
watchers, shut himself up in an inner chamber and remained there alone.

"He's takin' it mighty hard," they said. "Seems like it's kinder
onsettled his mind. He hain't never looked at the child once."

He did not appear at all the next day until all was ready and Tom De
Willoughby went to him.

He found him lying on the bed, his haggard face turned towards the
window. He did not move until Tom touched him on the shoulder.

"If you want to see her----" he said.

He started and shuddered.

"What, so soon?" he said. "So soon?"

"Now," Tom answered. "Get up and come with me."

He obeyed, following him mechanically, but when they reached the door,
Tom stopped him.

"I've told them a story that suits well enough," he said. "I've told them
that you're poor and have no friends, and can't care for the child, and
I've a fancy for keeping it. The mother is to lie out here on the
hillside until you can afford to find a better place for her--perhaps at
your own home. I've told the tale my own way. I'm not much of a hand at
that kind of thing, but it'll do. I've asked you no questions."

"No," said the man, drearily. "You've asked me no questions."

Then they went together into the other room. There were twenty or thirty
people in it, or standing about the door. It was like all mountain
funerals, but for an air of desolateness even deeper than usual. The
slender pine coffin was supported upon two chairs in the middle of the
room, and the women stood or sat about, the more easily moved weeping a
little under the shadow of their calico sunbonnets. The men leaned
against the door-posts, or sat on the wooden steps, bare-headed, silent,
and rather restless.

When Tom led his charge into the apartment,