a pang of remorse. He looked down at the
small face helplessly.

"Yes," he said, "you'll have to go in there; you're needed."

The woman looked at him in startled questioning.

"Mars De Willerby," she said, "does dat ar mean she's cl'ar gone?"

"Yes," answered Tom. "She's gone, Mornin."

With the emotional readiness of her race, the comfortable creature burst
into weeping, clasping the child to her broad bosom.

"Pore chile!" she said, "an' poor chile lef behin'! De Lord help 'em
bofe."

With manifest fear Tom stooped and took the little red flannel bundle
from her arms.

"Never mind crying," he said. "Go into the room and do what's to be
done."

When left alone with his charge, he sat down and held it balanced
carefully in his hands, his elbows resting on his knees. He was used to
carrying his customers' children, a great part of his popularity being
based upon his jovial fondness for them. But he had never held so small a
creature as this in his arms before. He regarded it with a respectful
timidity.

"It wasn't thought of," he said, reflectively. "Even she--poor thing,
poor thing--" he ended, hurriedly, "there was no time."

He was still holding his small burden with awkward kindliness when the
door opened and the man he had left in the room beyond came in. He
approached the hearth and stood for a few seconds staring at the fire in
a stupefied, abstracted way. He did not seem to see the child. At last he
spoke.

"Where shall I lay her?" he asked. "Where is the nearest churchyard?"

"Fifteen miles away," Tom answered. "Most of the people like to have
their dead near them and lay them on the hillsides."

The man turned to him with a touch of horror in his face.

"In unconsecrated ground?" he said.

"It doesn't trouble them," said Tom. "They sleep well enough."

The man turned to the fire again--he had not looked at the child yet--and
made a despairing gesture with his hands.

"That she--" he said, "that she should lie so far from them, and in
unconsecrated ground!"

"There is the place I told you of," said Tom.

"I cannot go there," with the gesture again. "There is no time. I must go
away."

He made no pretence at concealing that he had a secret to hide. He seemed
to have given up the effort.

Tom looked up at him.

"What are you going to do with this?" he asked.

Then for the first time he seemed to become conscious of the child's
presence. He turned and gave it a startled sidelong gl