"Boys," he said, "that's a promise. Remember it."

And he carried her back.

CHAPTER VI

The rooms at the back had never seemed so quiet before as when, at the
close of the day, he went into them. They seemed all the quieter by
contrast with the excitement of the past hours. In the kitchen Mornin was
giving the final touches to the supper, and in the room which was at once
sitting-room and bedroom, the wooden cradle had fitted itself in a corner
near the fireplace and wore an air of permanent establishment remarkable
to contemplate when one considered how unlooked-for an incident it was.

On the threshold of this apartment Tom paused a moment. Such silence
reigned that he could hear the soft, faint breathing of the child as it
lay asleep. He stopped a second or so to listen to it. Then he stooped
down, and began to loosen his shoes gently. As he was doing it, Mornin
caught sight of him in passing the open door.

"Mars Tom," she said, "what's ye a-gwine fer to do?"

"I'm going to take them off," he answered, seriously. "They'll make too
much noise."

The good soul in the kitchen chuckled.

"Now," she said, "now, Mars Tom, dar ye go right now a-settin' out to
ruinate a good chile, 'stead o' ustin' it ter things--a-settin' out ter
ruinate it. Don't never tip aroun' fer no chile. Don't ye never do it,
'n' ye won't never haf ter. Tippin' roun' jest spiles 'em. Tell ye,
Mornin never tipped roun' when she had em' ter raise. Mornin started out
right from de fust."

Tom looked at the cradle.

"She'll rest easier," he said. "And so shall I. I must get a pair of
slippers." And he slipped out of his shoes and stood ready to spend the
evening in his stocking-feet. A solitary tallow candle stood upon the
table, shedding its yellow light upon all surrounding objects to the best
of its ability, and, seeing that its flickering brightness fell upon the
small sleeper's face, he placed it at the farther end of the high mantel.

"She'll be more comfortable," he said. And then sat down feeling at ease
with his conscience.

Mornin went back to her supper shaking her head.

"By de time she's a year old, dar won't be no managin' her," she said.
"Da's allus de way wid de men folks, allus too hard or too soft; better
leav' her to Mornin 'n' ust'n her to things right at de start."

There seemed little chance that she would be so "ustened." Having
finished his supper, Tom carried his pipe and newspaper into the kitchen.