it would spill over. Seems to me if this little mite
belonged to me, if I knew my blood was in his veins, this town wouldn't
be big enough to hold me. I love my five, dear knows, but there's a
hurt in thinking that I'm never going to see the Dale stubbornness
cropping out or any of the Hardin ways. But you haven't got that
little nagging hurt to take off your joy, like a pinch in a pair of new
shoes. It's all along of you that this boy's here."

As if dominated by the stronger will, Annabel's eyes turned toward the
bundle. And inwardly praying that this was the moment for her _coup
d'etat_, Persis started to her feet.

"I b'lieve that's Thad calling. 'Fraid like as not, that I'm going to
kidnap his son and heir. You hold the baby, Mis' Sinclair, till I see
what's wanted."

She had tucked the baby into the curve of his grandmother's arm before
Annabel could protest, and she left the room without looking back.
Annabel, breathing fast, stared down into the little red face against
her shoulder. Such a queer little face, wrinkled with the ponderous
wisdom of the world it had so lately quitted, placid through ignorance
of the new life into which it had entered. She could not turn away her
eyes. And this being, newer than the morning paper and yet ancient as
man, was flesh of her flesh.

The little, tightly clenched fists attracted her as irresistibly as the
face. She surprised herself by poking one tentatively, and when the
fingers opened and closed about hers, her lips parted as if to cry out.
She had not dreamed that there could be such tenacity in those wee
fingers. It was uncanny to be thus gripped by a creature so intensely
new. And Persis had said that this was one of Heaven's good gifts, a
joy that might brim life's cup over.

The door opened and she raised her eyes. Her husband stood there,
gravely intent. She had never looked less beautiful than in her pale
disorder, but the pathos of her drooping figure and bewildered face
touched him strangely. Or perhaps it was the child in her arms.

"It's holding to my finger, Stanley! See!" Annabel's features twisted
in a strange distorted smile. "Our little grandchild."

He moved nearer. For all his efforts, he found it impossible to make
his voice altogether matter-of-fact.

"You've had a hard day, I'm sure. You'd better speak to Diantha and
then let me take you home."

She rose to her feet unsteadily, holding the child with the peculiar
awkwar