like Kate.
Its hair and colouring were like hers, but it had the brown eyes of its
father, and enough of his facial lines to tone down the too generous
Bates features. When the baby was five months old it was too pretty
for adequate description. One baby has no business with perfect
features, a mop of curly, yellow silk hair, and big brown eyes. One of
the questions Kate and Adam discussed most frequently was where they
would send her to college, while one they did not discuss was how sick
her stomach teeth would make her. They merely lived in mortal dread of
that. "Convulsion," was a word that held a terror for Kate above any
other in the medical books.

The baby had a good, formal name, but no one ever used it. Adam, on
first lifting the blanket, had fancied the child resembled its mother
and had called her "Little Poll." The name clung to her. Kate could
not call such a tiny morsel either Kate or Katherine; she liked "Little
Poll," better. The baby had three regular visitors. One was her
father. He was not fond of Kate; Little Poll suited him. He expressed
his feeling by bringing gifts of toys, candy, and unsuitable clothes.
Kate kept these things in evidence when she saw him coming and swept
them from sight when he went; for she had the good sense not to
antagonize him. Nancy Ellen came almost every day, proudly driving her
new car, and with the light of a new joy on her face. She never said
anything to Kate, but Kate knew what had happened. Nancy Ellen came to
see the baby. She brought it lovely and delicate little shoes,
embroidered dresses and hoods, cloaks and blankets. One day as she sat
holding it she said to Kate: "Isn't the baby a dreadful bother to you?
You're not getting half your usual work done."

"No, I'm doing UNUSUAL work," said Kate, lightly. "Adam is hiring a
man who does my work very well in the fields; there isn't money that
would hire me to let any one else take my job indoors, right now."

A slow red crept into Nancy Ellen's cheeks. She had meant to be
diplomatic, but diplomacy never worked well with Kate. As Nancy Ellen
often said, Kate understood a sledge-hammer better. Nancy Ellen used
the hammer. Her face flushed, her arms closed tightly. "Give me this
baby," she demanded.

Kate looked at her in helpless amazement.

"Give it to me," repeated Nancy Ellen.

"She's a gift to me," said Kate, slowly. "One the Peters family are
searching heaven and earth to find an ex