be he?" demanded the scowman.

"I ain't tellin' ye where he be now, Lem." Scraggy's tone was sulky.

"Why?"

"'Cause I'll go and get him. I'll bring him to the scow
lessen--lessen--"

"Lessen what?" cried Lem darkly.

"Lessen a month," replied Scraggy, "and ye'll kiss the brat, and he'll
call ye 'Daddy,' and he'll love ye like I do, Lemmy dear."

Lem was rigid, as the woman smoothed down his shaggy gray hair and
patted his hard face. Suddenly he started to his feet.

"Ye say, Scraggy, that ye'll bring the boy lessen a month?"

"Yep, lessen a month. And, Lemmy, he be a beautiful baby! Ye'll love
him, will ye, Lemmy?"

"Yep. And now ye take yer cat, Screechy, and get back to bed, and when
ye get the boy bring him to the scow." He hesitated a moment; then said,
"Ye don't know, do ye, where Flea and Flukey run to?"

Scraggy's face dropped.

"Be they gone?" she stammered, rising.

"Yep, for a long time; and Granny Cronk be dead."

"Then ye didn't get Flea, Lem?"

"Nope. And I don't want the brat, Scraggy; I only want the boy." He
spoke with meaning, and when he stood on the hut steps he turned back to
finish, "Ye'll bring him, will ye, Owl?"

"Yep, Lemmy love, lessen a month."

Scraggy greedily watched the shadowy form move away in the light of the
lantern. "Pussy, Pussy," she muttered, as she closed the door, "black
Pussy, come a beddy; yer ole mammy be that happy that her heart's a
bustin'."

When Screech Owl, although the happiest woman in the squatter
settlement, fell asleep with the cat in her arms, her pillow was wet
with tears.

* * * * *

Through long days of anxious waiting for Flukey's recovery, Flea
struggled with the Bible lessons Ann set for her each day. Yet she could
not grasp the meaning of faith. She prayed nightly; but uttered her
words mechanically, for the Savior in the blue sky seemed beyond her
conception. In spite of Miss Shellington's tender pleading, in spite of
the fact that Flukey believed stanchly all that Ann had told them, Flea
suffered in her disbelief. Many times she sought consolation in Flukey's
faith.

"Ye see, Flea, can't ye," he said, one morning, "that when Sister Ann
says a thing it's so? Can't ye see it, Flea?"

"Nope, I can't. I don't know how God looks. I can't understand how Jesus
ruz after he'd been dead three days."

"He did that 'cause He were one-half God," explained Flukey, and then,
brightening, added, "Sister Ann t