The woman stood motionless—her hands tightly clasped, and her lips stiffening with pain.
"You are right," she said; "who but her mother should take up this burden. I will tell Katharine."
"Not 'till I am out of sight!" cried the doctor, wheeling sharply on his crutches. "I tell you, woman, I can't stand it—feel like a butcher for what I have done. The law is an abomination. Why can't they let my pretty pigeon alone? As if there wasn't babies enough without making a fuss if one does drop off a little out of the common way?"
"I'll tell her. It's hard, but what is before me I can do," said the woman.
"Can't I help little?" said a sweet voice from the hearth, "or Jube? he's very strong."
The doctor looked down on little Paul with a glance half quizzical, half serious.
"You, little shoat, you?"
"Yes, if madame please," said Paul, with a sad smile; "if there's trouble, I and Jube very used to it. We've been in a boat together three days, with nothing but red hot sun and many waters to look on, till they blind us. We know how to be hungry and cold, and he knows how to be whipped on his back and never say a word. That is why we can help."
"That little trooper is what I call a pilgrim," muttered the guard, nodding at the doctor with a wink of the left eye.
Mrs. Allen laid her unsteady hand on Paul's dark curls. "He is a good boy, and God will bless him," she said.