much as turn her back, and not sleeping unless that she would croon
his lullabies to him. Mayhap it was because her strong arms and round
bosom made a more cosey nest for him than did th' breast and arms o' his
little dam; but so was 't, and nearly all o' her time did th' lass give
to him. Neither did it seem to rouse aught o' jealousy in Ruth's heart:
she was too busy a-looking for th' return o' 's father to bother her
pretty pate o'ermuch concerning him. And she would sit and talk o'
Robin, and o' Robin's goodness, and o' Robin's sweet ways and words and
doings, until I thought sometimes my poor lass's heart would just break
within her, if 't had not been broken already these two years. And one
day, as she kneels beside th' cradle--Ruth having gone to see her folks
for th' day--I come in unknown to her, and stand to watch th' pretty
sight. There kneels she, and Ruth's red shawl o'er her head to please
th' child (Keren ne'er had any bright colors o' her own those
days)--there kneels she, I say, beside the cradle, and kittles him with
her nimble fingers, and digs him i' th' ribs after a fashion that would
sure 'a' run me crazy (though it hath ne'er yet been proven what a young
babe cannot endure at the hands o' women), and punches and pokes and
worries him, for all th' world like a kitten worrying a flower. And he,
lying on his back, kicks with both feet at her face, and winds all his
hands in her long hair, and laughs, and bubbles, and makes merry, after
the fashion o' a spring stream among many stones. And by-and-by a change
falls o'er her, and she waxes very solemn, and sits down on th' floor by
th' edge o' th' cradle, with one arm upon 't and her head on her hand,
and she looks at the babe. In vain doth he clutch at her hair and at her
kerchief, and reach, with pretty broken murmurings, as of water through
crowding roots, after his little bare toes: never so much as a motion
makes she towards him. But at last up gets she to her knees, and takes
him fiercely into her strong hands, and holds him off at arm's-length,
looking at him; and she saith in a deep voice (such as I had not heard
her use for two years), saith she, "For that thou art not mine," saith
she, "I hate thee; but--" and here came a change o'er all her face and
voice and manner, like as when April doth suddenly wake in the midst o'
a wintry day in springtide--"but," saith she, "for that thou art his, I
love thee!" And she took him to her bosom, and bowed do