said, shaking his bridle again, "there she is, and it's
quite queer, by thunder, how much she seems to give a man to think of and
what will it be when she begins to talk." And his smile ended in a jovial
laugh which rather startled Jake, who was not expecting it, and caused
him to shy promptly.

She was not asleep when he entered her presence, which was so unusual a
state of affairs that he found it a little alarming.

"Hello!" he exclaimed, "there's nothing wrong, I hope."

"Wid dat chile?" chuckled Mornin, delightedly. "I sh'd think not, Mars'
D'Willerby! Dat ar chile's a-thrivin' an' a-comin' 'long jes' like she'd
orter. Dar ain't a-gwine to be nothin' wrong wid dat chile."

"That's a good thing," said Tom.

He sat down by the cradle's side and regarded its occupant with an
interest as fresh as if she had just appeared for the first time upon his
horizon. She had been imbibing a large quantity of milk, and the effect
of this nourishment had been to at once compose her spirits and slightly
enliven them. So she employed the passing moments by looking at Tom with
steadfast and solemn eyes--not, perhaps, very intelligently, but still
with a vacant air of interest in him in his character of an object.

"Why," he said, "she's grown; she's grown in thirty-six hours, and she's
improved too. Oh, yes! she's coming along nicely."

He touched her very carefully with his large forefinger, a liberty which
she did not resent or even notice, unless the fact that she winked both
eyes might be regarded as a token of recognition.

"We'll have a box full of things here for her in a couple of weeks," he
said. "And then she can start out in life--start out in life."

The last four words seemed to please him; as he repeated them he touched
her cheek again, carefully as before.

"And start out fair, too!" he added. "Fair and square--as fair and square
as any of them."

He remained a little longer in his seat by the cradle, talking to Mornin,
asking her questions and delivering messages laden with advice from
little Mrs. Rutherford, which instructions Aunt Mornin plainly regarded
as superfluous.

"Now, Mars' D'Willerby," she giggled in amiable scorn, "didn't I raise
fo' o' my young Mistes's? Mornin ain't no spring chicken. Dar ain't
nuffin 'bout chillun Mornin h'aint heerd. Leeve dis yere chile to
Mornin."

"She ain't going to be left to anyone," said Tom, cheerfully, "not to the
best woman in Hamlin County. We've got to make