“Oh, Ma,” began Pa, rising imploringly to his feet.
Ma transfixed him with her eye.
“Sit down, Pa,” she commanded.
Unhappy Pa sat.
Then Ma glared at the smiling Josiah, who instantly felt as guilty as if he had been caught stealing sheep red-handed.
“We are much obliged to you, Mr. Spencer,” said Ma icily, “but this baby is OURS. We bought him, and we paid for him. A bargain is a bargain. When I pay cash down for babies, I propose to get my money’s worth. We are going to keep this baby in spite of any number of uncles in Manitoba. Have I made this sufficiently clear to your understanding, Mr. Spencer?”
“Certainly, certainly,” stammered the unfortunate man, feeling guiltier than ever, “but I thought you didn’t want him—I thought you’d written to his uncle—I thought—”
“I really wouldn’t think quite so much if I were you,” said Ma kindly. “It must be hard on you. Won’t you stay and have tea with us?”
But, no, Josiah would not stay. He was thankful to make his escape with such rags of self-respect as remained to him.
Pa Sloane arose and came around to Ma’s chair. He laid a trembling hand on her shoulder.