rns the
mother knack never forgets it.

After tea Ma despatched Pa over to William Alexander's to borrow a high
chair. When Pa returned in the twilight, the baby was fenced in on
the sofa again, and Ma was stepping briskly about the garret. She was
bringing down the little cot bed her own boy had once occupied, and
setting it up in their room for Teddy. Then she undressed the baby and
rocked him to sleep, crooning an old lullaby over him. Pa Sloane sat
quietly and listened, with very sweet memories of the long ago, when he
and Ma had been young and proud, and the bewhiskered William Alexander
had been a curly-headed little fellow like this one.

Ma was not driven to advertising for Mrs. Garland's brother. That
personage saw the notice of his sister's death in a home paper and wrote
to the Carmody postmaster for full information. The letter was referred
to Ma and Ma answered it.

She wrote that they had taken in the baby, pending further arrangements,
but had no intention of keeping it; and she calmly demanded of its uncle
what was to be done with it. Then she sealed and addressed the letter
with an unfaltering hand; but, when it was done, she looked across the
table at Pa Sloane, who was sitting in the armchair with the baby on his
knee. They were having a royal good time together. Pa had always been
dreadfully foolish about babies. He looked ten years younger. Ma's keen
eyes softened a little as she watched them.

A prompt answer came to her letter. Teddy's uncle wrote that he had six
children of his own, but was nevertheless willing and glad to give his
little nephew a home. But he could not come after him. Josiah Spencer,
of White Sands, was going out to Manitoba in the spring. If Mr. and Mrs.
Sloane could only keep the baby till then he could be sent out with the
Spencers. Perhaps they would see a chance sooner.

"There'll be no chance sooner," said Pa Sloane in a tone of
satisfaction.

"No, worse luck!" retorted Ma crisply.

The winter passed by. Little Teddy grew and throve, and Pa Sloane
worshipped him. Ma was very good to him, too, and Teddy was just as fond
of her as of Pa.

Nevertheless, as the spring drew near, Pa became depressed. Sometimes he
sighed heavily, especially when he heard casual references to the Josiah
Spencer emigration.

One warm afternoon in early May Josiah Spencer arrived. He found Ma
knitting placidly in the kitchen, while Pa nodded over his newspaper and
the baby played with t