offee would be better," she coolly amended. "And those
babies of yours are crying their heads off in there, and I don't seem
to be able to do anything to stop them. I rather fancy they're in need
of feeding, aren't they?"

It was then and then only that I remembered about my poor neglected
Twins. I groped my way in through the darkness, quite calm again, and
sat down and unbuttoned my waist and nursed Poppsy, and then took up
the indignant and wailing Pee-Wee, vaguely wondering if the milk in my
breast wouldn't prove poison to them and if all my blood hadn't turned
to acid.

I was still nursing Pee-Wee when Bud Teetzel came into the shack and
asked how many lanterns we had about the place. There was a sullen
look on his face, and his eyes refused to meet mine. So I knew his
search had not succeeded.

Then young O'Malley came in and asked for matches, and I knew even
before he spoke, that he too had failed. They had all failed.

I could hear Dinky-Dunk's voice outside, a little hoarse and throaty.
I felt very tired, as I put Pee-Wee back in his cradle. It seemed as
though an invisible hand were squeezing the life out of my body and
making it hard for me to breathe. I could hear the cows bawling,
reminding the world that they had not yet been milked. I could smell
the strong coffee that Lady Alicia was pouring out into a cup. She
stepped on something as she carried it to me. She stopped to pick it
up--and it was one of Dinkie's little stub-toed button shoes.

"Let me see it," I commanded, as she made a foolish effort to get it
out of sight. I took it from her and turned it over in my hand. That
was the way, I remembered, mothers turned over the shoes of the
children they had lost, the children who could never, never, so long
as they worked and waited and listened in this wide world, come back
to them again.

Then I put down the shoe, for I could hear one of the men outside say
that the upper muskeg ought to be dragged.

"Try that cup of coffee now," suggested Lady Alicia. I liked her
quietness. I admired her calmness, under the circumstances. And I
remembered that I ought to give some evidence of this by accepting the
hot drink she had made for me. So I took the coffee and drank it. The
bawling of my milk-cows, across the cold night air, began to annoy me.

"My cows haven't been milked," I complained. It was foolish, but I
couldn't help it. Then I reached out for Dinkie's broken-toed shoe,
and studied it for a l