Steve went to her quickly, and his gentle face and manner were eloquent with concern and sympathy.
“Why, my dear, what has happened?”
“It's the little baby! She's been so ill all night! She can't live!”
“Oh, my dear! Oh, that is too sad!” and Steve's face flushed and quivered.
“You must come right back with me, Steve; they are in such grief.”
They went in without pausing to ring and tiptoed their way to Constance's room. The house was very still.
In response to their soft tap Randolph opened the door. When he saw Steve he broke into a great sob and laid his head on the shoulder of the dear friend of olden days.
“Oh, is she gone?” cried Nannie, entering the room.
Constance nodded and turned away, but Nannie burst into uncontrollable grief as she saw the little white-faced figure lying in the crib.
“I never want a child!” cried Nannie passionately. “If God can be so cruel as to take her, I never want one!”