Mrs. Riley. "He"--the
pronoun stood, this time, for her husband--"he never sah the child. He
was kilt with an explosion before the child was barn."

She held the infant on her strong arm as he struggled to throw himself,
with wide-stretched jaws, upon her bosom; and might have been devoured
by the wicked bruiser had not his attention been diverted by the
entrance of Mary, who came in at last, all in fragrant white, with
apologies for keeping the Doctor waiting.

He looked down into her uplifted eyes. What a riddle is woman! Had he
not just seen this one in sabots? Did she not certainly know, through
Mrs. Riley, that he must have seen her so? Were not her skirts but just
now hitched up with an under-tuck, and fastened with a string? Had she
not just laid off, in hot haste, a suds-bespattered apron and the
garments of toil beneath it? Had not a towel been but now unbound from
the hair shining here under his glance in luxuriant brown coils? This
brightness of eye, that seemed all exhilaration, was it not trepidation
instead? And this rosiness, so like redundant vigor, was it not the
flush of her hot task? He fancied he saw--in truth he may have seen--a
defiance in the eyes as he glanced upon, and tardily dropped, the little
water-soaked hand with a bow.

Mary turned to present Mrs. Riley, who bowed and said, trying to hold
herself with majesty while Mike drew her head into his mouth: "Sur,"
then turned with great ceremony to Mary, and adding, "I'll withdrah,"
withdrew with the head and step of a duchess.

"How is your husband, madam?"

"John?--is not well at all, Doctor; though he would say he was if he
were here. He doesn't shake off his chills. He is out, though, looking
for work. He'd go as long as he could stand."

She smiled; she almost laughed; but half an eye could see it was only to
avoid the other thing.

"Where does he go?"

"Everywhere!" She laughed this time audibly.

"If he went everywhere I should see him," said Dr. Sevier.

"Ah! naturally," responded Mary, playfully. "But he does go wherever he
thinks there's work to be found. He doesn't wander clear out among the
plantations, of course, where everybody has slaves, and there's no work
but slaves' work. And he says it's useless to think of a clerkship this
time of year. It must be, isn't it?"

The Doctor made no answer.

There was a footstep in the alley.

"He's coming now," said Mary,--"that's he. He must have got work to-day.
He has an acqu