"My child," answered Ernie deeply, lifting a blind face to the ceiling.
Alf was afraid of many things; but most of all he feared children, and was brutal to them consequently, less from cruelty, as the unimaginative conceived, than in self-defence. And the younger the child the more he feared it. The presence in the house of this tiny creature, emerging suddenly into the world from the darkness of the Beyond with its mute and mysterious message, terrified him.
"Here! I'm off!" he said. "This ain't the place for me," and he left the house precipitately.
Mrs. Trupp of course went to visit the young mother. Ruth in bed, nursing her babe, met her with a smile that was radiant yet wistful.
"It's that different to last time," she said, and nodded at little Alice playing with her beads at the foot of the bed. "See, she'd no one—only her mother ... and you ... and Mr. Trupp. They were all against her—poor lamb!—as if it was fault of her'n." She gasped, choking back a sob.—"This'n's got em all on her side."
"That's all over now, Ruth," said Mrs. Trupp gently.
"I pray so, with all my heart I do," answered Ruth. "You never knaw. Seems to me some things are never over—not in this world anyways."
She blinked back tears, drew her hand across her eyes, and flashed up bravely.
"Silly, ain't it?" she laughed. "Only times it all come back so—what we went through, she and me. And not through any fault of mine—only foolishness like."
Ruth was one of those women who are a standing vindication of our civilisation and a challenge to all who indict it. She was up and about in an incredibly short time, the firmer in body and soul for her adventure.