le!" she whimpered, beginning now to
bite at her fingernails. "He's changed. He never seen me pray. _I_
never told him how. Oh, he's--different. And he'll change more. I
got to face it. He'll soon be like the people that--that--don't
understand us. I couldn't stand it to see that stare in his eyes.
It'll kill me, Poddle! I knew it would come," she continued,
uninterrupted, Mr. Poddle being unable to come to her assistance for
lack of breath. "But I didn't think it would be so--awful soon. And I
didn't know how much it would hurt. I didn't _think_ about it. I
didn't dare. Oh, my baby!" she sobbed. "You'll not love your mother
any more--when you find her out. You'll be just like--all them
people!" She came to a full stop. "Poddle," she declared, trembling,
her voice rising harshly, "I got to do something. I got to do
it--_quick_! What shall I do? Oh, what shall I do?"

Mr. Poddle drew a long breath. "Likewise!" he gasped.

She did not understand.

"Likewise!" Mr. Poddle repeated. "'Fought the Devil With Fire.'
Quick!" He weakly beckoned her to be off. "Don't--let him
know--you're different. Go and--pray yourself. Don't--let on
you--never done it--before."

She gave him a glad glance of comprehension--and disappeared...

The boy had risen.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, brightly. "You got through, didn't you, dear?"

He was now sitting on the edge of the bed, his legs dangling--still
reluctant to crawl within. And he was very gravely regarding her, a
cloud of anxious wonder in his eyes.

"Who taught you to," she hesitated, "do it--that way?" she pursued,
making believe to be but lightly interested. "The curate? Oh, my!"
she exclaimed, immediately changing the thought. "Your mother's awful
sleepy." She counterfeited a yawn. "I never kneel to--do it," she
continued. In a sharp glance she saw the wonder clearing from his
eyes, the beginnings of a smile appear about his lips; and she was
emboldened to proceed. "Some kneels," she said, "and some doesn't.
The curate, I suppose, kneels. That's his way. Now, _I_ don't. I was
brought up--the other way. I wait till I get in bed to--say mine.
When you was a baby," she rattled, "I used to--keep it up--for hours at
a time. I just _love_ to--do it. In bed, you know. I guess you never
seen me kneel, did you? But I think I will, after this, because
you--do it--that way."

His serenity was quite restored. Glad to learn that his mother knew