"Of course we'll keep it," said Trove, as he took the baby,
"I must hurry back," said the girl, now turning with a look of relief.
Tunk shied off and began to build a fire; Miss S'mantha sat down weeping, the girl ran away in the darkness, and Trove put the baby in Miss Letitia's arms.
"I'll run over to Leblanc's cabin," said he, getting his cap and coat. "They're having trouble over there."
He left them and hurried off on his way to the little cabin.
Loud cries of the baby rang in that abode of silence. It began to kick and squirm with determined energy. Poor Miss Letitia had the very look of panic in her face. She clung to the fierce little creature, not knowing what to do. Miss S'mantha lay back in a fit of hysterics. Tunk advanced bravely, with brows knit, and stood looking down at the baby.
"Lord! this is awful!" said he. Then a thought struck him. "I'll git some milk," he shouted, running into the buttery.
The baby thrust the cup away, and it fell noisily, the milk streaming over a new rag carpet.
"It's sick; I'm sure it's sick," said Miss Letitia, her voice trembling. "S'mantha, can't you do something?"
Miss S'mantha calmed herself a little and drew near.