"He might grow up to be a real comfort to you," she murmured
persistently, "and you could look out for him well enough, once you
get started. Just see how smart you are, Mr. Williston--look at that
prize you got; she was awful proud of it."
His face twisted painfully.
"I looked out for _her_ well, didn't I?" he said coldly, "I was a
'good provider,' as they say up there, wasn't I? Do you think--"
his voice rang harshly and he struck the table by his side till it
rattled on its unsteady legs--"do you think if I couldn't look out
for her, I would look out for _that_? Get it ready."
The woman rose, her lips pressed together, and rolled the blankets
tightly about the quiet child. With one gesture she put on a shabby
hat and pinned it to her hair.
"I'll leave the bottle with you," she said to Caroline; "it'll help
keep him quiet, when I'm gone. Come on."
The man turned away his head as they passed him. At the outer door
she paused a moment, and her face softened.
"I know how you feel, Mr. Williston, and I don't judge you," she
said gently, "for the Lord knows you've had more than your share of
trouble. But won't you kiss it once before--before it's too late?
It's your child, you know. Don't you feel--"
"I feel one thing," he cried out, and the bitterness of his voice
frightened Caroline; "I feel that it murdered her! Take it away!"
They shrank through the door.
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