est I could; that the child was naturally fretful and that if he wasn't
satisfied with my way of looking after it, he might try his. All of
which was very wrong and unreasonable on my part, as witness the awful
punishment which followed."

"And what made you get up and leave him?"

"The growl he gave me in reply. When I heard that, I bounded out of bed
and said I was going to the spare room to sleep; and if the baby cried
he might just try what he could do himself to stop it."

"And he answered?"

"This, just this--I shall never forget his words as long as I live--'If
you go, you need not expect me to let you in again no matter what
happens.'"

"He said that?"

"And locked the door after me. You see I could not tell all that."

"It might have been better if you had. It was such a natural quarrel and
so unprovocative of actual tragedy."

Mrs. Hammond was silent. It was not difficult to see that she had no
very keen regrets for her husband personally. But then he was not a very
estimable man nor in any respect her equal.

"You were not happy with him," Violet ventured to remark.

"I was not a fully contented woman. But for all that he had no cause to
complain of me except for the reason I have mentioned. I was not a
very intelligent mother. But if the baby were living now--O, if he were
living now--with what devotion I should care for him."

She was on her feet, her arms were raised, her face impassioned with
feeling. Violet, gazing at her, heaved a little sigh. It was perhaps in
keeping with the situation, perhaps extraneous to it, but whatever its
source, it marked a change in her manner. With no further check upon her
sympathy, she said very softly:

"It is well with the child."

The mother stiffened, swayed, and then burst into wild weeping.

"But not with me," she cried, "not with me. I am desolate and bereft. I
have not even a home in which to hide my grief and no prospect of one."

"But," interposed Violet, "surely your husband left you something? You
cannot be quite penniless?"

"My husband left nothing," was the answer, uttered without bitterness,
but with all the hardness of fact. "He had debts. I shall pay those
debts. When these and other necessary expenses are liquidated, there
will be but little left. He made no secret of the fact that he lived
close up to his means. That is why he was induced to take on a life
insurance. Not a friend of his but knows his improvidence. I--I have not
even