ugh immediately
afterward she said, apparently by way of apology,--

"I don't know how I come to do that."

"Neither do I, Nan; I don't know how you can do anythin' but hate me.
But you ain't goin' to have no new reason for doin' it. I'm goin' to be
different ev'ry way from what I was."

"I hope so," said Mrs. Kimper, releasing herself from her husband's
arms and taking up the cards again. "I was just tellin' my fortune by
the keerds, havin' nothin' else to do, an' they showed a new man an'
some money,--though not much."

"They showed right both times, though keerds ain't been friends to this
family, confound 'em, when I've fooled with 'em at the saloon. Where's
the baby, though, that I ain't ever seen?"

"There," said the woman, pointing to a corner of the room. Sam looked,
and saw on the floor a bundle of dingy clothes from one end of which
protruded a head of which the face, eyes, and hair were of the same
tint as the clothing. The little object was regarding the new arrival
in a listless way, and she howled and averted her head as her father
stooped to pick her up.

"She's afraid you're goin' to hit her, like most ev'ry one does when
they go nigh her," said the mother. "If I'd knowed you was comin'
to-day, I'd have washed her, I guess."

"I'll do it myself now," said the father, "I've got the time."

"Why, you ain't ever done such a thing in your life, Sam!" said Mrs.
Kimper, with a feeble giggle.

"More's the shame to me; but it's never too late to mend. When'll Billy
get home, an' Tom?"

"Goodness knows; Billy gets kep' in so much, an' Tom plays hookey so
often, that I don't ever expect either of 'em much 'fore supper-time.
They talk of sendin' Tom to the Reform School if he don't stop."

"I'll have to stop him, then. I'll try it, anyway."

"It needs somebody that can wollup him harder'n I can; he's gettin' too
big for my stren'th. Well, if here they don't both come! I don't know
when I've seen them two boys together before, 'less they was fightin'.
I wonder what's got into 'em to-day."

The two boys came through the back yard, eying the house curiously,
Billy with wide open eyes, and Tom with a hang-dog leer from under the
brim of his hat. Their father met them at the door and put his arms
around both.

"Don't do that," said Tom, twitching away, "that sort o' thing's for
women, an' gals an' babies."

"But I'm your dad, boy."

"Needn't make a baby of me, if you be," growled the cub.

"I'd gi