such as she had become, ran through my mind all the
time; and yet, she seemed a better girl when I talked with her than when
she was running over the prairie like a plover following old Tom and the
little clittering wagon. Now she seemed to have grown, to have taken on
a sort of greatness, something which commanded my respect, and almost
my awe.

It was the sacredness of martyrdom. I know this now: but then I seemed
to feel that I was disgracing myself for not loathing her as
something unclean.

"It's a boy!" said Doctor Bliven, as I came to the house. "The mother
ain't in very good shape. Seems exhausted--exhausted. She'll pull
through, though--she'll pull through; but the baby is fat and lusty.
Strange, how the mother will give everything to the offspring, and bring
it forth fat when she's as thin as a rail--thin as a rail. Mystery of
nature, you know--perpetuation of the race. Instinct, you know,
instinct. This girl, now--had an outfit of baby clothes in that bundle
of hers--instinct--instinct. My wife's going to stay a day or so. I'll
take her back next time I come out."

"You must 'tend to her, Doc," said I. "I'll guarantee you your pay."

"Very well, Jake. Of course you would--of course, of course," said he.
"But between you and me there wouldn't be any trouble about pay. Old
friends, you know; old friends. Favors in the past. You've done things
for me--my wife, too. Fellow travelers, you know. Never call on us for
anything and be refused. Be out to-morrow. Ought to have a woman here
when I go. Probably be milk for the child when it needs it; but needs
woman. Can get you a mover's wife's sister--widow--experienced with her
own. Want her? Bring her out for you--bring her out to-morrow. Eh?"

I told him to bring the widow out, and was greatly relieved. I went to
Magnus's cabin that night to sleep, leaving Mrs. Bliven with Rowena. I
hoped I might not have to see Rowena before she went away; for the very
thought of seeing the girl with the child embarrassed me; but on the
third day the widow--they afterward moved on to the Fort Dodge
country--came to me, and standing afar off as if I was infected with
something malignant, told me that Mrs. Vandemark wanted to see me.

"She ain't Mrs. Vandemark," I corrected. "Her name is Rowena Fewkes."

"I make it a habit," said the widow, whose name was Mrs. Williams, "to
speak in the present tense."

Whatever she may have meant was a problem to me; but I went in. Rowena
l