her pleasure in sitting at the front window to watch the
people passing by and notice how many new black dresses and bonnets went
to church each Sunday.

When the new baby was born there was neither turmoil nor terror.

"Somehow it was different from the other times. It seemed sort of
natural," Henrietta said. "And it's so quiet to lie like this in a
comfortable clean bed, with everything in its place and nothing upset in
the room. And a bright bit of fire in the grate--and a tidy, swept-up
hearth--and the baby breathing so soft in his flannels."

She was a pretty thing and quite unfit to take care of herself even if
she had had no children. Dowie knew that she was not beset by
sentimental views of life and that all she wanted was a warm and
comfortable corner to settle down into. Some masculine creature would be
sure to begin to want her very soon. It was only to be hoped that youth
and flightiness would not descend upon her--though three children might
be supposed to form a barrier. But she had a girlish figure and her hair
was reddish gold and curly and her full and not too small mouth was red
and curly also. The first time she went to church in her little widow's
bonnet with the reddish gold showing itself under the pathetic little
white crepe border, she was looked at a good deal. Especially was she
looked at by an extremely respectable middle-aged widower who had been a
friend of her dead husband's. His wife had been dead six years, he had a
comfortable house and a comfortable shop which had thriven greatly
through a connection with army supplies.

He came to see Henrietta and he had the good sense to treat Dowie as if
she were her mother. He explained himself and his circumstances to her
and his previous friendship for her nephew. He asked Dowie if she
objected to his coming to see her niece and bringing toys to the
children.

"I'm fond of young ones. I wanted 'em myself. I never had any," he said
bluntly. "There's plenty of room in my house. It's a cheerful place with
good solid furniture in it from top to bottom. There's one room we used
to call 'the Nursery' sometimes just for a joke--not often. I choked up
one day when I said it and Mary Jane burst out crying. I could do with
six."

He was stout about the waist but his small blue eyes sparkled in his red
face and Henrietta's slimness unromantically but practically approved of
him.

One evening Dowie came into the little parlour to find her sitting upo