ry! Wait till the kid says
'Daddy.'" She held out the rosy babe, pushing him almost under Lem's
chin. "Look at him, Lemmy! Ain't--he--sweet? He's yer own pretty
boy-brat, and--"

Her loving plea was cut short; for the man, with a vicious growl, raised
his stumped arm, and the sharp part of the hook scraped the skin from
her hollow cheek. It paused an instant on the level of her chin, then
descended into the upturned chest of the child. With a scream, Scraggy
dragged the boy back, and a wail rose from the tiny lips. Crabbe turned,
cursing audibly, and stumbled up the steps to the stern of the boat. The
woman heard him fall in his drunken stupor, and listened again and again
for him to rise. Her face was white and rigid as she stopped the flow of
blood that drenched the infant's coarse frock. Then, realizing the
danger both she and the child were in, since in all likelihood Lem would
sleep but a few minutes, she slid open the window and looked out upon
the dark river in search of help. Splashes of rain pelted her face,
while a gust of wind caused the scow to creak dismally. Scraggy could
see no human being, only the lights of Albany blinking dimly through the
raging storm. Another shrieking whistle warned her that the yacht was
still near. Sailors' voices shouted orders, followed by the chug, chug,
chug of an engine reversed.

But, in spite of the efforts of the engineer, the wind swung the small
craft sidewise against the scow, and, stupefied, Scraggy found herself
gazing into the face of another woman who was peering from the launch's
window. It was a small, beautiful face shrouded with golden hair, the
large blue eyes widened with terror. For a brief instant the two women
eyed each other. Just then the drunken man above rose and called
Scraggy's name with an oath. She heard him stumbling about, trying to
find the stairs, muttering invectives against herself and her child.

Scraggy looked down upon the little boy's face, twisted with pain. She
placed her fingers under his chin, closed the tiny jaws, and wrapped the
shawl about the dark head. Without a moment's indecision, she thrust him
through the window-space and said:

"Be ye a good woman, lady, a good woman?"

The owner of the golden head drew back as if afraid.

"Ye wouldn't hurt a little 'un--a sick brat? He--he's been hooked. And
it's his birthday. Take him, 'cause he'll die if ye don't!"

Moved to a sense of pity, the light-haired woman extended two slend