sury Box?

"I wish I knew for very certain," the Little Lover mused. "I could
ask Uncle Larry, but I hate Uncle Larry--" Oh! Then it wasn't a
dream. It was true. It all came back. The Little Lover remembered why
he hated Uncle Larry. He remembered it all. Lying there in his little
bed he smelt the beautiful smell again and followed it up to the
roses on Her dress. They were Uncle Larry's roses, so he hated Uncle
Larry. He always would. He did not hate Her, but he would never go to
see Her again. He would never nod or smile at Her again in church. He
would never be happy again.

Perhaps She would send back the Treasury Box;--the Little Lover had
heard once that people sent back things when it was all over. It was
all over now. He was only six, but the pain in his heart was so big
that he did not think to wish She would send back the Treasury Box
soon, on account of the softest apple.

The days went by until they made a month,--two months,--half a year.
The pain in the Little Lover's heart softened to a dreary loneliness,
but that stayed on. He had always been a lonely little chap, but not
like this. He had never had a mother, and his father had nearly
always been away. But this was different. Now he had nobody to love,
and he hated Uncle Larry.

That was before the Wonderful Thing happened. One day Uncle Larry
brought Her home. He said She was his wife. That was the Wonderful
Thing.

The Little Lover ran away and hid. They could not find him for a long
time. It was She who found him.

"Why, Reggie! Why, poor little man! Look up. What is it, dear?
Reggie, you are crying!"

He did not care. He _wanted_ to cry. But he let Her take him into Her
arms.

"_I_ wanted to do it!" he sobbed, desolately, his secret out at last.

"Do it? Do what, Reggie?"

"M-marry you. _I_ was goin' to do it. H-He hadn't any right to! I
hate him--I hate him!"

A minute there was silence, except for the soft creak of Her dress as
She rocked him. Then She lifted his wet little face to Hers.

"Reggie," She whispered, "how would a mother do?"

He nestled his cheek against Her sleeve and rubbed it back and forth,
back and forth, while he thought. A mother--then there would be no
more loneliness. Then there would be a place to cuddle in, and
somebody to tell things to. "I'd _ravver_ a mother," the Little Lover
said.

Chapter X

The Child

The Child had it all reasoned out in her own way. It was only lately
she had got to th