mouth is a large place. Are you sure she's in Portsmouth?"

"He said Portsmouth way, I think."

"Then there be a difficulty in finding her?"

"'Spose there will. Will you take the baby?"

"I-I--" The woman stared. "What's its name?"

"It ain't got none."

"Is it a boy or girl?"

"I think it's a girl."

"How old is it?"

"I think he said about six weeks."

"Is it healthy?"

"I don't know."

"Maybe it has the smallpox."

"I do not think so. Will you take it?"

"I--not I. I know nothin' about it. There's no saying, it might
bring diseases into the house, and I must consider my own children.
Is it terrible dirty?"

"I--I don't think so."

"And it hasn't got a name?"

"No; the sailor said it was not baptized."

"What's the color of its eyes?"

"I don't know."

"Has it got any hair?"

"I have not looked."

"P'raps it's an idjot?"

"I don't think so."

"And is deformed?"

"Oh, no."

"Well, I can't have no baby here as I don't know nothin about. You
can take it over to the Snellings. They may fancy it. I won't have
nothin' to do with a babe as ain't got no parents and no name, and
ain't got no hair and no color in its eyes. There is my Samuel
snorin'. Take the child away. I don't want no measles, and smallpox,
and scarlatina, and rickets brought into my house. Quick, take the
nasty thing off as fast as you can."

Iver shrunk away, left the house, and made his way, carrying the
baby, to another cottage a hundred yards distant. There was a lane
between them, with a stream running through it, and the banks were
high and made the lane dark. The boy stumbled and fell, and though
he probably had not hurt the child, he had frightened it, and it set
up loud and prolonged screams. With brow bathed in perspiration,
and heart beating from alarm, Iver hurried up to the second
squatter's cabin, and, without knocking, burst in at the door.

"I say," shouted he, "there's been a man killed, and here's a
baby yelling, and I don't know what's the matter with it. I
stumbled."

A man who was pulling off his boots started to his feet.

"Stop that darned noise," he said. "My wife--she's bad--got the
fever, and can't abide no noise. Stop that din instantly, or I'll
kick you out. Who are you, and what do'y mean rushing in on a
fellow that way?"

The boy endeavored to explain, but his voice was tremulous, and
the cries of the infant pitched at a higher note, and louder.

"I can't hear, and I don't want to