ifficulty in maintaining order.

"Say, boys," he said, "there's got to be quiet here. If we can't carry on
the establishment without disturbing the head of the household at present
asleep in the back room, this post-office has to close and you can get a
new postmaster. That'd suit you, I daresay. Some fellow, now, that
wouldn't half'tend to his business, not more than half, and that hadn't
legislative ability enough to carry on a precinct, let alone a county.
You want a man of that kind, I suppose. That's what you're working for."

"Tom," said one of the younger ones, "bring her out 'n' let's see her.
You've been braggin' on her all day, but ye hain't let us see her."

Half a dozen others joined in the cry.

"Yes," they said, "bring her out, Tom."

Tom did not rise from his seat. He tilted his chair back and balanced
himself on his heels, his hands thrust into his pockets.

"Boys," he said, "I'll bring her out on one condition, and that is that
there shall be no shines. I wouldn't have her scared or upset for a good
deal. There's a joke in this sort of thing, I daresay; but it ain't all
joke. If I bring her out and show her, there's to be no crowding and no
row."

It was agreed that there should be none, and he left his chair and went
to the inner room again. When he returned, the men who had been lounging
in the porch had come in, though perhaps not one among them understood
his own unusual interest in the affair. Babies were not rarities in
Hamlin County, every cabin and farm-house in the region being filled to
overflowing with white-headed, sunburnt youngsters. And yet when Tom
appeared there was a moment of silence. The child was asleep, its tiny
black head resting peacefully against the huge chest of its bearer. There
was no trace of confusion or awkwardness in his face, he seemed well
content with his burden, and perhaps it was the quiet of his manner as
much as anything else which caused the slight hush to fall upon those
around him.

At last a middle-aged farmer stepped forward. He gave the child a long
and rather curious look.

"Gal, ain't it?" he enquired.

"Yes," Tom answered.

"Wal, 'tain't a bad thing fer her she's got some un to stan' by her; gals
needs it."

Tom gave her a long look too. She was sleeping very quietly; it might
have been her mother's breast she was lying against.

"Well," he said, "here's a man to stand by her," and then he raised his
head and looked at the rest of them.